


The Silver Gambit

by cywscross



Category: Bleach
Genre: Aizen Wins, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But he isn’t a good guy, F/M, Gen, Gin is a total bamf, Gin-centric, Gin’s not taking that lying down, Language, Non-Canon Winter War, OCs - Freeform, Post Winter War, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gin swore all those years ago that he would see Aizen dead. A little thing like losing a war isn’t going to stop him. It just means he’ll have to change his plans a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This... was probably the most unplanned fic I have ever written, and I might not even continue it. I’ve always liked Gin but not to the point where I would actually write an entire fic dedicated to that character and everything, and half the stuff I put in here, I didn't even plan to at the beginning. Gin just popped in and decided that he wanted all this to happen because he wasn’t all that happy with dying such a useless death in canon, so... it’s happening.
> 
> Gin’s an interesting character to write since I'm not used to going really in-depth with a person as morally skewed as Gin can be, and he’s practically the exact opposite of every other main character that I’ve ever written in all my other fics, but there’s also a lot of room for personal character-building since he doesn't play that big a part in the anime/manga and I think there are a lot of sides to him that Kubo doesn't really develop with canon!Gin, so hopefully, he turned out alright in this fic and doesn't seem completely OOC.

                Ichimaru Gin was furious, and in the privacy of his bedroom, he was free to indulge himself by pitching a minor temper tantrum.

 

                Throwing a decorative vase against the far wall only went so far to soothe his anger though, and realizing he would have to clean it up later just irritated him even further.

 

                He took a deep steadying breath and sat down in the only chair he hadn't overturned earlier.

 

                The Gotei 13 had lost. The Visored had lost. Even the Kurosaki boy had lost.

 

                Then again, Gin had seen that coming a mile away. It was Aizen after all, and honestly, pinning all their hopes on a sixteen-year-old boy? Granted, for a Human-turned-Shinigami-turned-Visored-turned-God-only-knew-what-else who had exceeded all expectations by gaining Bankai and having beyond captain-level reiatsu, even _Aizen_ had admitted that the kid showed promise, which was everyone else’s version of ‘pretty damn good’.

 

But the boy was still just a boy, a child who knew nothing of war, who only had power and none of the finesse or experience needed to handle it all with a master’s proficiency. Kurosaki Ichigo might be something of a genius on the battlefield, could learn much faster than the average Shinigami, and had even defeated a couple of captains along the way, but the kid hadn't had _time_ to truly learn what he could do, not properly. He didn't know any Kidou, his attacks consisted of nothing more than charging headlong at his opponents and either hacking away with his sword or flinging those Getsuga Tenshous out like party favours, and from what Aizen’s camera flies had picked up, Kurosaki wouldn't have even won his battle against Kuchiki Byakuya if the kid’s inner Hollow hadn't taken control and blindsided the Sixth Division captain.

 

Kurosaki had some skill, Gin would acknowledge that, but the boy depended entirely too much on luck and sheer stubbornness, both of which only took you so far. He had no knowledge of strategy, his reiatsu gave him away like a lit lantern in the dark of night, and he hadn't even _started_ to tap into his full potential when wielding his Zanpakutou. If most of the kid’s adversaries hadn't underestimated him from the beginning and simply killed him without standing around and giving Kurosaki a fighting chance, he would've died half a dozen battles ago.

 

And yeah, perhaps it had been necessary simply because there had been no other choice, but frankly, the frantic pace at which Urahara and Hirako had pushed the kid into learning as much as possible as fast as possible hadn't really done him any favours, had only deluded Kurosaki into thinking that his strength could even come close to being on par with Aizen’s, and as recently shown by the resident immortal, the kid had been completely outmatched by the insane but still frighteningly formidable overlord.

 

This was real life after all, not some children’s manga where the unwitting hero swooped in at the last minute with some miraculous power boost strong enough to defeat the ultimate enemy, yet even the captains had been moronic enough to heap their expectations on that fairy tale. What kind of world did they think they lived in exactly? Gin would actually feel sorry for Kurosaki if he wasn't so pissed off at the moment.

 

Still, Gin had thought that the Shinigami – together – would've at least given Aizen a run for his money, distracted the megalomaniac – maybe even weakened him – enough for Gin to strike at the best given opportunity.

 

                But no, that obviously hadn't happened, and now half the Gotei 13’s upper echelon had been captured and imprisoned in the dungeons of Las Noches, along with Urahara, the Quincy boy, the healer girl, the other boy, and every single existing Visored, Kurosaki included and accounted for.

 

                Gin wasn't usually one for swearing but if there was ever a time, well, now was it.

 

_God-fucking-damnit_.

 

                Last Gin had heard, Seireitei had closed its doors, the Twelfth Division captain doing something or other with the walls surrounding the capital to prevent Gargantas from opening directly into the city.

 

Aizen had laughed and congratulated them for their quick thinking.

 

Gin knew that it was only a matter of time before the immortal found a way around that defence as well.

 

                In the meantime, Aizen was focused on readying his forces for whenever the Zero Division _finally_ got their collective asses in gear and made their attempt at stopping the Shinigami currently on a rampage with destination Spirit King Palace at the end of the road; that, or readying his forces to meet the Royal Guard head-on when Aizen breached the Palace since the overlord was already beginning the preparations for converting one hundred thousand souls and Karakura Town into the Ouken. Oh, and as a side-project, Rukongai was under siege at the moment since Soul Society was also on Aizen’s list of places to conquer. Just because Seireitei had been barricaded didn't mean that the rest of the Spirit World wasn't fair game.

 

                So, in other words, it was a bad situation all around, and that was putting it mildly.

 

                Wearily, Gin scrubbed a hand over his face. Think, he had to think, come up with some sort of plan before things could get any worse. He was supposed to be a genius (although the only other living acknowledged geniuses were both locked up five floors beneath him so maybe that title was overrated these days); there had to be something he could do to turn the tide.

 

                The only silver lining (and wasn't that ironic) he could see at this point was that his cover hadn't been blown yet. Aizen still thought that Gin was his loyal follower, the protégé that he had personally raised and taught, and Gin wasn't about to go and waste that advantage.

 

                Right now, the best option was probably to get in contact with the Shinigami and coordinate an attack of some kind. As much as Gin hated to admit it, there was no feasible way he could defeat Aizen by himself with the megalomaniac in his current state. Right before the Winter War had more or less ended, he had debated over a last ditch effort at skewering Aizen with Shinsou to leave a sliver of his Zanpakutou in the man but he had quickly discarded that idea. Aizen was immortal now that he had fused with the Hogyoku, and Gin wasn't dumb enough to waste his life on an assault that he wasn't one hundred percent certain would stick.

 

                So, somehow, he had to find a way to turn Aizen back into something that could be killed, and despite an in-depth knowledge on basically everything Aizen knew about every field of science known to Shinigami, Gin didn't know how to outright _destroy_ the Hogyoku.

 

(He didn't want to anyway, at least not yet. Not until he had returned what was taken from Rangiku.)

 

The only person he could think of who might at least have some idea on how to separate the thing from Aizen was Urahara. Unfortunately, the former Twelfth Division captain was presently clapped in chains and cooling his heels downstairs behind bars.

 

                Kurotsuchi was still free but Gin didn't have a way to reach that... man, plus he was of the opinion that Urahara was smarter anyway (and less disturbing, though Gin supposed he wasn't one to talk), so that was a no-go.

 

                Out of the captain-class Shinigami, only the Captain-Commander, Ukitake, Kyouraku, Shihouin, Tsukabishi, Sui-Feng, Zaraki, and Unohana had escaped the final battle that had taken place five days ago. Komamura had too but... well, Gin didn't really count dying as much of an escape. Tousen himself had killed the Seventh Division captain, and then had almost taken Hisagi’s head as well, though the man had ended up capturing his former lieutenant instead.

 

                A number of the other vice-captains and senior seated officers that had been there had also managed to flee.

 

                Not Rangiku though (and once Aizen had found out that Gin _hadn't_ killed Rangiku after all, Gin had been lucky that the newly-turned immortal had been in a good enough mood to only reprimand him verbally before generously assuring Gin that if he really wanted to keep her around, so long as she didn't cause any problems, Gin could have her as a prize), or Izuru. Both had been down in the dungeons for almost a week now, and if Gin was one to attempt utterly futile actions, he would've already tried gutting Aizen.

 

                But he couldn't. Not yet. That wouldn't do anyone any good. His position was paramount in freeing Rangiku and Izuru, and if he was going to find a way to do that, then he might as well include freeing the other prisoners as well. It would only help in the long run.

 

                Putting aside the how, Gin knew he’d have to convince the Shinigami of his status as a spy, which actually wouldn't be all that hard to do at this point. If Gin _was_ on Aizen’s side, then turning against the madman now was borderline suicide and completely pointless since the immortal had pretty much already won. Aligning himself with the Shinigami right now was plain idiocy, and there was no logical reason for Gin to pretend to be a spy of some sort within the Shinigami’s midst for Aizen. The Shinigami wouldn't trust him but Gin was fairly certain that he could convince them that he wasn't Aizen’s lackey either. Freeing them and helping them escape would be a nice bonus on top of that.

 

                That being said, Gin wasn't sure how to free them. At this time, it would be self-slaughter for the remaining Shinigami out there to send a rescue team for the captives, and that was only if they could find and infiltrate Las Noches in the first place. Yamamoto would never order it in a million years. To the old man, the prisoners of war were already dead.

 

                Which meant that if Gin wanted to get them out, he was on his own. Literally. Working against Aizen meant that he had zero allies (or at least no allies who could assist him with this particular predicament, not at this stage), a weakness he hadn't predicted back when he had first decided to play double agent. People generally didn't like him, and he generally didn't like people, for all that he enjoyed toying with them. Heck, the people he would admit to caring about if push came to shove could be counted on one hand, and one of them was already dead.

 

                And the fact of it was, he couldn't do it alone. He could get them out easily enough – he had the keys – but there was no means he could use to sneak all of them out and through Las Noches to the Garganta room, a place that was guarded twenty-four/seven.

 

                Well, he could always trick a Hollow into opening one, and then kill the Hollow afterwards to make sure they didn't get word back to Aizen, but the prison cells were well-guarded, half the time by Tousen who seemed to be obsessed with getting his former lieutenant to ‘see reason’.

 

                Then again, Tousen wouldn't be a problem. Not for Gin.

 

                But there were also alarms put in place, linked to the reiatsu-suppression shackles that the prisoners had been bound in. That was another thing – even if Gin could get a Hollow to open a Garganta near the cells, it had already been five days since the Shinigami had been captured, and the chains would've messed with their reserves. Once taken off, they would be weak, and it would take time for their reiatsu to return and even longer to stabilize, time they didn't _have_. Someone would have to create a path out of reishi for them when they travelled through the Garganta, and Gin wouldn't trust a bunch of random Hollows to get the Shinigami back to Soul Society without trying to eat them or kill them depending on how intelligent they were.

 

                Plus there were the additional problems of wiping the cameras, stealing back all the Shinigami’s Zanpakutou, timing it so that Aizen would be far away from Las Noches when the prisoners escaped, ensuring that Gin himself wouldn't be so much as _suspected_ of being connected to the breakout, along with a hundred other factors that were giving him a migraine.

 

                Gin scowled uncharacteristically at nothing in particular. What to do... What to do...

 

                A Garganta was a must. It was impossible to leave Hueco Mundo without one. Herding a group of eight Visored, four Humans, and nine Shinigami, all with a range of varying injuries, though the halls of Las Noches was nightmare-inducing. They’d get caught, no doubt about it.

 

                So if a Garganta was going to open, it would have to open down in the dungeons, and the only way that was happening was for Gin to force an Arrancar or something down there. He didn't really like the idea of anything below that helping him out but Numeros had freewill of their own, and while Gin could probably get away with it, it was too troublesome to kill them afterwards, get rid of their bodies, and come up with an excuse, not to mention most of them were out causing havoc in Rukongai anyway. Plus, he didn't trust them to take the prisoners all the way back to Soul Society anyway. He didn't exactly want Exequias either; they were _too_ dumb, essentially cannon fodder. The Espada were out as well for obvious rea-

 

                Gin straightened in his seat.

 

                Wait a minute.

 

                Hadn't Kurosaki Ichigo bumped into a former Espada during his trek through Hueco Mundo? What was her name? Nel or something like that, something long and unpronounceable. From what Gin could recall of all the recordings that Aizen had taken, the former Tres Espada had taken a shine to the kid, had even protected him from Nnoitra. Where was she now? Surely she’d want to help Kurosaki again?

 

                Then again, Nel was still bouncing back and forth between her child form and her real form without any control, and the former wasn't going to do anybody any good. But if Gin could stabilize her and turn her back permanently, then the former Espada could open a Garganta and take Kurosaki and the other prisoners all the way back to Soul Society. Even better, she had no loyalty to Aizen whatsoever, not to mention changing her back would be seen as an act of good faith in Kurosaki’s eyes.

 

It shouldn't be too hard; Gin wasn't a scientist but only because he had no interest in it. Being Aizen’s protégé however meant that he had picked up more than a few things over the years.

 

He’d have to examine her first though, and to do that, he’d have to find her. Luckily for everyone involved, Aizen had a ridiculous amount of those camera flies _everywhere_ , and Gin had an equally ridiculous amount of freedom with all the rooms in the fortress, including the one with the camera monitoring system.

 

A vicious grin twisted Gin’s mouth even as his mind raced through dozens of possible scenarios, weighing probabilities and dismissing them one by one when his mental calculations of their odds of succeeding came up less than satisfactory, rapidly combining certain facets and cutting out the more dubious components, until – finally – a concrete plan formed in his mind’s eye.

 

His grin widened.

 

That... just might work.

 

**{1}**

 

                “This food is disgusting,” Renji grumbled, poking half-heartedly at his tray.

 

                “Suck it up,” Ichigo muttered back. “We’re prisoners. They’re not gonna give us five-star meals.”

 

                “Doesn't change the fact that it’s disgusting,” Renji complained for the umpteenth time since they’d been captured.

 

                “Stop whining, Abarai,” Hitsugaya cut in, sounding annoyed and tired at the same time. No surprise; the cuffs and collar that each of them had been clapped in were suppressing their reiatsu to the point where they barely had any left, just enough to keep them alive. “Kurosaki’s taking this better than you are, and he’s still a kid.”

 

                Ichigo made an irritated noise at the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be called a kid by a kid!”

 

                Hitsugaya shot him the stink-eye for that shot at his physical appearance. Thankfully, Inoue interrupted before another ragged argument could get off the ground. “U- Um, please don’t fight! They- They hit you last time for making too much noise, Kurosaki-kun!”

 

                Ichigo made a face, stretching the bruise marring his jaw, but he subsided without another word. Hitsugaya’s lips thinned at the reminder. He didn't say anything more either.

 

                Rangiku watched all this silently, not moving from her spot next to her captain, her back pressed against the stone wall behind her. Ichigo and his three Human friends had instinctively crowded together in one corner, with Rukia and Renji next to them.

 

Byakuya was seated next to his lieutenant with about as much dignity as anyone could manage under the circumstances. True to his nature, he’d barely strung together twenty words over the past several days (there were no windows but if they were fed three times a day and escorted to the bathroom for ten minutes each twice a day, then it had already been over eight days since they’d been captured). Mostly, Byakuya spent his time watching his sister, lieutenant, and – for some reason – Ichigo.

 

The shopkeeper – Urahara – was slouched nearby as well, his stubble more noticeable than usual and his signature striped hat gone but looking completely unconcerned overall. Only the way his gaze had taken on a darker cast as they’d continuously flitted from Ichigo to the door to the prison guards whenever they entered gave his apprehension away. Rangiku wondered if that was why the man wore a hat these days since he hadn't had one from what she could recall of him over a century ago; his eyes were too expressive to hide everything by themselves.

 

The Visored had also taken up another corner, with the blonde ex-lieutenant – Hiyori – tucked securely in their midst. She hadn't woken up from her injuries ( _Gin had inflicted the largest one_ ) yet but Rangiku supposed that the blonde was lucky enough that Unohana had managed to heal the worst of it before the Visored had been taken.

 

Hisagi and Kira were here too, along with Isane, all of them cluttered together with the latter between them. Unohana must be fuming at this very moment.

 

                This... hadn't really been in any worst-case scenarios Rangiku had ever imagined. For whatever reason, she had always believed that the Gotei 13 would pull through somehow, that they’d win against Aizen no matter what that traitor threw at them.

 

                Obviously, she had been wrong.

 

                “Matsumoto, eat,” Her captain ordered gruffly, shoving a tray of questionable contents closer to her. “You need to keep your strength up.”

 

                Rangiku summoned a wan smile for Hitsugaya who huffed and glanced away. Still, his shoulder remained firmly pressed against hers in a silent show of support. She reached for the spoon.

 

                “What I don’t get,” The Quincy spoke up suddenly, body still as tightly wound up as it had been on his first day here. “Is why they’re keeping us... well. Alive.”

 

                Inoue released a strangled sound. Ichigo scowled at everything in general, and the muscles in Sado’s broad shoulders bunched.

 

                Ishida continued doggedly, like working things out rationally was about the only thing keeping him from flying off the handle. “It doesn't make sense. Aizen’s won. There’s no point keeping us alive. It’s just more work for them to lock us up like this.”

 

                “I take it you're not sorry?” Muguruma growled from his place across the room, arms crossed over his chest. Ishida flinched back, the movement just large enough to be noticeable.

 

It was Hirako who sighed shortly before reaching out and slapping the former Ninth Division captain over the head. “Stop that, Kensei; it’s a valid question.” The blond glanced around, steady gaze focusing on all four kids. His eyes lingered on Inoue before expounding candidly, “Public execution probably. Aizen will wanna make an example out of us in front o’ the entire organization. The fact that we’re still in ’ere means that the Gotei 13 hasn’t fallen completely.”

 

The unspoken _yet_ echoed between them, bouncing off the walls and ringing in their ears.

 

Rangiku grimaced. The food tasted even worse than usual with dinner conversation like this going on.

 

“We’ll get out,” Ichigo interjected, jaw tight. Rangiku inwardly applauded his efforts at clinging on to his bravado. “They’ll slip up sooner or later, and then we’ll be able to escape.”

 

There was doubt in more than one person’s expression but nobody, not even the more jaded ones, said a word to shoot the Substitute Shinigami down, especially since he was still so battered-looking. His inner Hollow had managed to heal some of his more critical injuries before the reiatsu-suppression cuffs were locked on, pulling the teen back from the brink of death that he’d been at after his battle against Aizen, but that didn't change the fact that Ichigo still looked like he’d gone ten rounds with Zaraki Kenpachi recently.

 

Besides, the other teenagers – even the aloof Quincy – along with Rukia and Renji, and even Hisagi and Kira to some degree, seemed to draw strength from Ichigo’s determined words, leaning forward towards that faith like flowers to sunlight, so the bright-haired Shinigami’s words was at least good for that. The last thing they needed was hysterical tears or outright panic or even depression.

 

There was a click, and then the door swung open, and every head snapped towards it.

 

Kensei snorted, the disgust clear in his voice. “You again? Can’t they send someone else to check on us?”

 

Tousen stepped into their white-walled cell, completely disregarding his former captain per usual. As luck would have it, it seemed as if Tousen had been designated as their keeper or something. The man always came by to do a headcount of some sort at least once a day, and mess with Hisagi while he was at it as well. Today was no different, and Rangiku caught the way Hisagi’s shoulders hunched just a little, his expression constantly hardened by betrayal nowadays as he did his utmost to pretend Tousen wasn't in the room even as the former captain’s sightless eyes turned towards him.

 

Rangiku took pity on him. Maybe she could distract Tousen from his daily justice speeches with the questions that she’d been suppressing since day one. She had wanted to ask before but the words had never managed to make it past her lips until now.

 

“Hey,” She refused to even call the traitor by his name. Tousen glanced at her, and she felt Hitsugaya stiffen in warning beside her. “Are you the one in charge of overseeing our confinement or something?”

 

The former captain turned to face her, blind eyes meeting her gaze with unsettling accuracy. He seemed to ponder her question for a moment, and either he was bored or he simply felt like indulging her. Whichever it was, Tousen responded after a few seconds’ silence, “Aizen-sama has given the order that all prisoners should be checked on once a day by someone higher-ranked than a Numeros. The remaining Espada are either all busy at this time or too unruly so the task falls to me.”

 

Rangiku’s fingers tightened briefly in the somewhat tattered folds of her shihakushou before she forged on. “So... why hasn't Gin come? He’s the same rank under Aizen as you are, isn’t he?”

 

Another long silence prevailed. Rangiku could practically hear her captain’s silent demand of what the heck she thought she was doing by putting herself in the spotlight like this.

 

But... she had to know.

 

“...Gin is otherwise occupied,” Tousen said at last, frustratingly vague although a note of disdain had entered his voice. “He does what he wishes in his spare time, and Aizen-sama has rarely ever seen the need to discipline him. It is merely less problematic to handle the daily rounds myself instead of tracking him down.”

 

He paused again, and honestly, if she hadn't known, Rangiku would never have guessed that the man was blind. She felt like he was studying her through a microscope. It made her skin crawl.

 

“You are Matsumoto Rangiku,” Tousen continued, sounding almost speculative as he spoke. “The woman Gin attempted to spare.”

 

Rangiku rocked back, stunned. “I- what?”

 

Tousen seemed clinically amused now. “You were briefly engaged in battle with Gin during the war, were you not? I assume he knocked you out, and even Aizen-sama could not sense your reiatsu once Gin had rejoined us, so you must have later woken up hidden away in a reiatsu-concealing cloak or something akin to it. You could have escaped easily with the rest of your comrades at that point instead of following your captain. After all, Gin did report to Aizen-sama that he had killed you himself.”

 

Rangiku sat very still. She hadn’t woken up with any such thing, only knowing that Gin had knocked her out with a Hakufuku Kidou spell, so she didn't know why Aizen hadn't been able to sense her. Aside from that though, if Gin had really been her enemy, had cut ties like he’d implied with every single one of his actions, why _hadn't_ he killed her?

 

And... Gin had told Aizen that he _had_? Why would he do that? If he had turned traitor so easily, why would Gin even care anymore?

 

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up in time to see an Arrancar step inside, bowing politely at Tousen. “Tousen-sama, an altercation has broken out between Baraggan-sama and Nnoitra-sama that needs your intervention.”

 

Tousen frowned and nodded curtly. “I am done here.” He spared one last cursory glance at Rangiku before following the Arrancar out. The door thudded shut behind them, automatically sealing itself once more.

 

“...Oi, Matsumoto.”

 

Rangiku jerked a little, glancing to the side at her captain. Hitsugaya scowled at her, though it didn't seem like he was particularly upset or anything.

 

“You know Ichimaru?” Hitsugaya prodded, looking conflicted. “In a... personal capacity?”

 

Rangiku hesitated, finally registering the fact that everyone was looking at her by now, either because they literally had nothing better to do or because they actually felt invested in what she had to say.

 

Hirako, for one, was eyeing her closely, and Rangiku remembered that Gin used to be the former Fifth Division captain’s Third Seat.

 

She hastily looked away, concentrating on the room at large instead. An odd feeling twisted her gut, something just a bit like resentment welling up inside her when she thought about Hirako. Would Gin have followed Aizen so faithfully if the blond Visored had looked out for Gin a little better? She recalled that her childhood friend hadn't been all that close to Hirako despite being third-in-command of the man’s squad.

 

“...We sort of... we knew each other before we became Shinigami,” Rangiku answered belatedly. “We’re both from District 64, you know, North Rukongai, and that was... well, it wasn't a very nice place. I was literally starving to death when he found me, and for some reason, he stopped even though – out there – it’s everybody for themselves. I mean, I was lying on the side of a road and a whole bunch of people had been walking past me all day. I was sure I was going to die. But he stopped, and he told me that I must have reiatsu because I could feel hunger, and then he gave me some food.”

 

“So... he saved your life?” Renji looked like he couldn't even imagine the very idea.

 

Rangiku rolled her eyes. “ _Yes_ , he did. He took me in, nursed me back to full health, and as soon as I was well again, he taught me how to survive on the streets.” She flashed a half-playful, half-wistful grin at Hitsugaya. “He taught me everything from pick-pocketing to fighting dirty to haggling for the lowest prices at the markets. He didn't care much that I was a girl; always told me that I had to pull my own weight, so I also learned how to fix leaks in the roof, how to catch fish, even how to mend rips in clothing to make them last longer. Also tried to teach me how to cook but I never got the hang of anything more complicated than making sandwiches. But he always said that it was best to know a skill and never need it than to need a skill and not know it.”

 

She paused, nostalgia washing over her. Sometimes, on occasion, she almost wished that Gin had never gotten it into his head to become a Shinigami. Living in Rukongai was never the easiest life but... Rangiku had been happy there. Not that she wasn't happy as a Shinigami (although to be fair, she was pretty darn unhappy right _now_ ) but – in some ways – when it had just been the two of them fending for themselves in Rukongai, life had been a hell of a lot simpler. Gin had taught her a whole bunch of skills so that she wouldn't have to rely on him all the time, especially whenever he’d taken off to god-only-knew-where without so much as a by-your-leave. He’d always come back though, sometimes with richer foods, other times with new and warmer clothing, even a few times with little trinkets like kanzashi or a hand mirror for her (and she had always treasured those little presents – she still had them to this day – because it was so very unlike Gin to go out of his way to acquire things that were useless for survival, yet he’d gotten them for her anyway without Rangiku asking), and despite teaching her how to take care of herself, he’d also protected her when she had needed it.

 

“I wasn't very good at surviving in the beginning, when I was still learning,” Rangiku concluded lightly when she blinked back into the present and found everyone still paying avid attention to her. “But Gin managed for us. He made sure we always had money stashed away for emergencies, and firewood during the winter, and food on the table. He never told me to leave so I ended up staying with him permanently. We even entered the Academy together when Gin said that he wanted to become a Shinigami. We were... We were good friends.”

 

Now, everybody looked to be in varying states of disbelief.

 

“Are we really talking about the same Ichimaru Gin?” Rukia enquired rather incredulously. She shifted uncomfortably in her sitting position. “I remember back when I was... um, imprisoned, in Seireitei. He was... not kind. I mean, he was in league with Aizen of course, but even before all that came out, he was... frightening. When he spoke, I felt like I was being strangled by snakes.”

 

Rangiku blinked at her, feeling somewhat sympathetic. “Most people find him scary. He’s always been like that for as long as I’ve known him.” She paused thoughtfully. “He’s never been scary to me though, not even when I first met him.”

 

“Yeah, cuz it sounds like he was nice to you,” Renji pointed out. “No offense but why did he take you in? I'm from Rukongai too, so I know that the people who aren’t already part of a group are either new or lone wolves, and lone wolves tend to stick to themselves.”

 

Rangiku shook her head. “I don’t know. He never saved anyone else; it was always a battle and a half getting him to agree whenever I wanted to bring a homeless kid back to the hut for a hot meal and a night’s rest. He’d usually be okay with that but he never allowed them to stay for longer than a few days. I asked him once, about why he saved me. All he said was that he thought I was interesting.”

 

“He said the same thing to me,” Kira piped up unexpectedly. He cleared his throat when he found himself the center of attention. “When he requested me for the Third, to become his lieutenant, I asked him once why he wanted me. I mean, it wasn't like I stood out or anything. I had been in the Fourth up until then. But all he said was that he thought I was interesting.”

 

“Huh,” Ichigo scratched his head. “That’s weird. He said the same thing to me.” He made a face. “Then he had the gall to say that I was creepy! Does that guy not own a mirror or something?”

 

Ishida muttered something under his breath, no doubt an insult if the light punch Ichigo delivered to the Quincy’s shoulder was anything to go by.

 

“Why did he call you creepy?” Rangiku asked curiously. It wasn't like Gin to say something like that.

 

Ichigo shrugged. “We talked a bit before we really started fighting. He asked me if I remembered the last time we fought. He said that he remembered thinking that I was an interesting kid. I told him I didn't remember him.”

 

Half the room sweatdropped.

 

“So... you were taunting him and he called you creepy?” Renji asked in confusion.

 

Ichigo clicked his tongue in annoyance. “No, of course not! Why does everyone think I was taunting him? What I meant was that I remembered his sword, but I didn't remember his heart. I mean, I can usually tell – just a little – what an opponent is thinking when he’s fighting me. Like, as in, why they're fighting, or what they want from me, or whether they’re looking down on me.” His gaze flicked to Byakuya for a split second before looking to Rangiku once more. “The stronger my opponents are, the stronger their hearts are conveyed. That’s how it works for me. But Gin – he didn't have any of that. His blade was- I don’t know, _empty_. Even when he was fighting me, he wasn't looking at me. Even during the second time we fought, when he was kicking my ass, it was like- like I didn't even register on his radar. And it wasn't just because he was stronger than me or that he thought he was so far above me that I was just a nuisance; that was what I felt only when I fought _Aizen_. But when I fought Gin, it was like... like he didn't care one way or the other about fighting me. Like he was already looking at something beyond me. I still don’t know what he was looking at though.”

 

Rangiku stared. She wasn't the only one. She knew that all Shinigami – if they were good enough – could sense certain thoughts and feelings when their Zanpakutou clashed, but...

 

_“I didn't remember his heart.”_

_“Even when he was fighting me, he wasn't looking at me.”_

_“I still don’t know what he was looking at though.”_

 

Rangiku pressed her lips together.

 

_What’s going on with you, Gin? Why can’t things ever be simple with you? Now that I think about it, even back when Aizen and Tousen told us exactly why they were defecting, you never said a word about your own motives. You didn't even smile like you always do; you just said sorry. What the heck is that supposed to mean anyway? I don’t want an apology, I want an explanation, damn it!_

 

“Well, I can’t blame him for callin’ ya creepy,” Kyouraku’s old lieutenant – Lisa – remarked.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Well it’s true; what kind of person goes on a long spiel about what they can feel from another person’s Zanpakutou? And what does it matter anyway? He’s still a two-faced bastard.”

 

Rangiku leaned back against the wall again, catching Kira’s eye as she did so. The pale blond stared back, and even though he made no indication of it, something in his expression told her that he was asking the same questions she was.

 

Because the two of them had probably known Gin best, and yes, he was a bit of a sadist who cared for very, _very_ few people, and yeah, he practically went out of his way to make everyone dislike him at every given opportunity, and hell yes, he was a chronic liar to boot, but at the same time, that wasn't all there was to Gin. Rangiku would attest to that, and it looked like Kira would too.

 

Because they had known him best, and they had known him best because they were the ones Gin had allowed himself to care about.

 

So there had to be more to Gin turning traitor than simply for the sake of power or following a madman like Aizen.

 

There just had to be.

 

**{1}**

 

                “YOU KNOW WHERE ITSYGO IS?! TAKE NEL TA ITSYGO!! I WANNA SEE ITSYGO!”

 

                Gin kept his signature smile nailed to his face as his right hand held the wriggling, shrieking green-haired pseudo-child by the back of her gown, taking care to keep her as far away from his person as physically possible.

 

                _This_ was why he _loathed_ dealing with children.

 

                “Wait a minute!” Thankfully, the girl finally toned it down a bit. Unfortunately, she continued flailing like some sort of demented octopus. And she wouldn't shut up. “Nel knowth you! Yer one o’ de bad guys! You work for Aizen! LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!!”

 

                Aanndd... she was back to screeching again.

 

                _Ya can’t kill her,_ Gin reminded himself as his fingers twitched with the desire to drown the brat in the nearest sand dune. _Ya need her for your plan. And once ya turn her back ta her normal self, she can’t possibly still be this annoying. At least, I don’t remember her ta be this annoying. And if she is, well, maybe Kurosaki-kun will be grateful enough after ya free him that he’ll hand her back ta ya so that ya can violently murder her then._

 

                “Pipe down or I’ll feed ya ta Shinsou,” Gin threatened out loud. He let his eyes slit open, smile still spread across his face. “My Zanpakutou is like a snake. She’s always... _eager_ for new prey.”

 

                Nel squeaked, gulped, and closed her mouth with a click, teary eyes wide as she glanced nervously at his sleeves, no doubt wondering where he had stashed his sword.

 

                Gin relaxed, closing his eyes. Ah, blessed silence.

 

                His gaze lifted above her head, taking in the Fraccion that were hovering anxiously a few feet away, torn between wanting to come to their master’s aid and staying put out of self-preservation since Gin hadn't made any move to really harm Nelliel.

 

                “Now then,” Gin shifted his attention back to the girl he was dangling. It had taken him three and a half days to find her, and then he had had to subtly manipulate Barragan and Nnoitra into picking a fight with each other (which hadn't been that difficult, come to think of it) so that Tousen – the only other person besides himself who was allowed into the surveillance room without explicit permission from their leader – would be occupied long enough for Gin to meet up with Nel and smuggle the girl back into Las Noches without anyone the wiser. “I have a proposal for ya. Ya wanna help Kurosaki-kun?”

 

                Large doe eyes blinked at him. Hesitantly, she nodded.

 

                “Good,” Gin hoisted her up to eye-level. “Are ya up ta date with how the war went? D’ya know Kurosaki-kun’s one o’ the ones who’ve been captured?”

 

                Another nod, even slower this time. She seemed to wilt in his grip like a dying orchid.

 

                Gin inwardly rolled his eyes. So melodramatic. With the way this girl reacted, you’d think Kurosaki was being tortured to death at this very moment or something. “One more question – how much do ya remember from when ya were still an Espada?”

 

                Nelliel jerked a bit, glancing up with a shrewdness in her features that didn't belong to a child.

 

Gin’s smile widened. “So ya remember.”

 

                “Not- Not everyt’in’!” The girl protested defensively. “Dere are still bith missin’. What d’ya want with Nel anyway? I’m not doin’ any harm! Wha’d ya do with Itsygo? He’th ’o nice! Why d’ya guys have ta hurt ’im?”

 

                Gin prayed for tolerance in the face of the increasingly fast onslaught of questions. He gave her a shake. “What’d I say earlier?” Nelliel abruptly fell silent. “Better. Now listen closely ’cause this part’s important. Ya wanna help Kurosaki-kun; it just so happens that I do too.”

 

                Nelliel actually frowned this time, and she craned her head up to peer at him with more than a little bewilderment. “Why?”

 

                “’Cause I'm a nice guy,” Gin drawled sarcastically. “Now stop askin’ stupid questions. Kurosaki-kun is currently locked up in the dungeons with a bunch o’ his friends. I’ve got a plan ta get ’em out but I need someone who can open a Garganta for them and take ’em back ta Soul Society safely. That would be ya if ya agree.”

 

                Nelliel puffed up as best she could from her position in the air, crossing her pudgy arms in front of her. If she was aiming to look even more like a sulky brat, Gin would very much like to tell her that she had succeeded.

 

                “What if Nel don’ agree?” Nelliel countered defiantly.

 

                “I’ll kill ya,” Gin shot back cheerfully without a second’s reluctance. He wasn't kidding. This wasn't something he could force her to do since she would be taking the hostages back to Soul Society without Gin hovering over her shoulder to make sure she did as she was told, and he hadn't survived as a spy in Aizen’s company for so long by being careless. There was no way Gin was going to leave a loose end untied.

 

                Nelliel shuddered, eyes filling again as she waved her hands in the air. “Okay, okay! Nel was jutht kiddin’! Nel wants ta help Itsygo anyway! But...”

 

                Gin arched an eyebrow when something cold and fierce entered the little girl’s eyes.

 

                “Why d’ya wanna help Itsygo?” Nelliel’s tone came very close to demanding. “Yer Aizen’s second-in-command. I won’ help you hurt Itsygo! I’d rat’er die!”

 

                Gin tilted his head, considering his next words. “...If everythin’ goes accordin’ ta plan, I ain’t gonna do anythin’ ta hurt the kid. You're just gonna have ta take my word for it. Do we ’ave an accord?”

 

                Nelliel stared at him like she was assessing his trustworthiness or something. Gin felt like laughing. There was nothing trustworthy about him.

 

                “...Nel can’ open a Garganta like dis, and my friends can’ carry a lotta people t’rough all de way,” The girl finally admitted, and Gin’s smile curled into a smirk of satisfaction.

 

                “That’s where I come in,” Gin declared magnanimously. He tossed the former Espada back onto the sandy floor of the desert. She landed with an _oof_ , and her Fraccion both made indignant noises in the background up until Gin flashed his eyes at them, quelling their complaints with ease.

 

                “I’ve been doin’ a bit o’ research on the side,” Gin explained, casually looming over the child sprawled in front of him. “I just need ta take a look at ya, and I’ll be able ta change ya back. Permanently.”

 

                Nelliel gawked openly at him, clambering to her feet and toddling a few steps forward. “So- So you’ll change Nel back into a woman? And Nel will be able to stay as a beautiful big-breathted woman?”

 

                Gin looked skyward, hoping for an answer. What was wrong with this kid? More importantly, why did Kurosaki always have to attract all the weirdoes? Gin wouldn't have to put up with this if the boy had made friends with a normal Arrancar instead.

 

                Gin glanced back down, reminding himself once more that he needed this girl. “O’ course. But ya do as I say, when I say it. After ya get Kurosaki-kun and his friends back ta Soul Society, then ya can go follow whoever ya want or do whatever ya want with your life, but not before. Do we have a deal?”

 

                Nelliel struck what must've been some sort of thinking pose. “...You promith not ta hurt Nel?”

 

                Gin mulled this over. It was a hard promise to make but... “I promise I won’t do any long-lastin’ damage ta ya. If ya don’t get on my nerves, then it won’t ever be a problem.”

 

                The girl scowled but seemed to understand that this was the best she was going to get. “And Nel won’ have to do anyt’in’ dat might hurt Itsygo or his friends?”

 

                Ah, this one was easier. “Ya won’t.”

 

                Nelliel nodded resolutely at this and held up one chubby finger. “Den Nel will agree on one condition!” Gin’s smile felt strained as the brat pompously spread an arm to encompass the two Fraccion standing behind her. “Dey get ta come wit’ me! And you can’ hurt ’em eider! Okay?”

 

                Gin almost sighed out of sheer exasperation. He surveyed the two Fraccion who shifted nervously from foot to foot. It shouldn't be too difficult to sneak them in through one of the secret passages he had discovered when he’d been drawing up maps and blueprints of Las Noches for Aizen (needless to say, Gin hadn't included _everything_ he had found). Still, this was so troublesome. But he needed the girl, and time was ticking as it was.

 

                “Fine,” Gin agreed tersely. “But ya do everythin’ I say as well, when I say it. No arguments.”

 

                Both Fraccion nodded vigorously, looking relieved that they wouldn't be separated from their master.

 

                Gin hummed noncommittally, pointing first at the skinny one. “Good, then ya – Fraccion One – carry the brat.” He extended a finger at the fatter one. “And ya – Fraccion Two – ya better be able ta keep up. Both o’ ya follow me.”

 

                And with that said, he took off back in the direction of Las Noches, slowing his speed down significantly as he heard the two Fraccion behind him scrambling to catch up while Nelliel griped about Gin being a meanie.

 

                _Brats_. God, he couldn't wait to get rid of her.

 

**{1}**

 

                “Aizen-sama would like you to meet him in North Rukongai on the frontlines, Ichimaru-sama,” A voice from the other side of the door intoned.

 

                Gin frowned with displeasure at the break in concentration, pencil pausing halfway through the calculations of reiatsu input that would be needed to repair a Hollow mask. Out loud, he answered lightly, “Aa, I’ll be there soon.”

 

                Whichever Numeros was outside called back an acknowledgement before taking his leave, and Gin heaved a sigh before picking up his notes and heading further into his set of rooms. He stopped at the last door on the right, one of the few rooms he had soundproofed with Kidou. Rapping on it three times in quick succession, and then another two slower ones, Gin let himself in, free hand coming up to catch the rice bowl that had been chucked at him.

 

                Striding inside, Gin smiled down at the girl who had launched the bowl at him. Nelliel blanched and grinned guiltily. “Nel t’rew it just in case it wasn' you.”

 

                Gin scoffed. What exactly was a bowl supposed to do to Aizen if it had been the immortal who had walked in?

 

                “Ya heard the knockin’ pattern,” Gin reminded the girl as he dropped the bowl on a nearby table before casting a dismissive eye on the Fraccion currently pinning up one of the pictures Nelliel had drawn with the crayons Gin had produced for her. “Listen up, I have ta leave for a bit. Don’t leave this room for anythin’. There’s enough food in ’ere ta last ya the next couple days, and I shouldn't take that long anyway. No explorin’, no wanderin’ around, no doin’ anythin’ that takes ya – or your Fraccion – outta this room, understand?”

 

                Nelliel looked highly disgruntled but she nodded compliantly enough. Gin was grateful that at least she remembered enough from her life as an Espada to know that being caught in Las Noches was equivalent to suicide.

 

                “Good,” Gin reached into one of his robe’s inner pockets and withdrew a video game he had put together for his own amusement out of the various scraps he had picked up in the labs. It wasn't as advanced as the ones he had seen in Seireitei in the hands of Shinigami who had poached them from the Human World but it would keep a child entertained, as Nelliel proved when said game was whisked away by eager hands and a high-pitched squeal.

 

                “Keep outta trouble,” Gin warned one last time before ducking out of the room again. Just to be on the safe side, after closing the door, he threw up half a dozen Kidou barriers along with locking, alarm, and sensory seals over it. The three Arrancar would now only be able to get out if something _inside_ was threatening them, and Gin would be alerted if _anything_ passed through that door. He’d already done the same with the window, although he wasn't too worried about that exit – it was too small for Fraccion One and Two to escape through in the first place, and the girl wouldn't run away without them.

 

                That done, he headed for his bedroom to stash his notes away. Wouldn't do to just leave them out in the open even though no one but himself was allowed in his rooms.

 

**{1}**

 

                “Aizen-taichou, did ya need me for somethin’? I didn't think anythin’ out here would've given ya any trouble.”

 

                Sousuke turned at the sound of his protégé’s voice. Gin sauntered up rather lazily, smirking away at the carnage around them, and Sousuke couldn't quite help the tinge of genuine fondness in his own answering smile. He’d taught this boy well. Once he had properly ascended to his rightful place above this world, he’d make sure Gin would be there as well. His second-in-command would never be as strong as Sousuke was but Sousuke hadn't spent so many years passing on his own knowledge to this particular Shinigami and training him so thoroughly just to see it all go to waste. Unlike Tousen who really was too blind (oh, the irony) to be anything more than a pawn in the end, Gin would continue thriving for as long as Sousuke ruled.

 

                “Gin,” He acknowledged by way of greeting. “There is no trouble, but I thought you would appreciate some time to stretch your legs instead of staying in Las Noches all the time. Unless... you have been occupied with the lovely Matsumoto-fukutaichou?”

 

                Sousuke cocked one amused eyebrow as Gin shrugged sheepishly, almost like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Sorry ’bout the deception again, Aizen-taichou. I haven't seen her since she was captured though, ’specially since Tousen-chan’s always down there. Maybe later.”

 

                Sousuke chuckled. “Haven't you gotten tired of harassing Tousen yet? It has been decades since the two of you began quarreling over your difference of opinions on just about everything.”

 

                “It was hate at firs’ sight, Taichou,” Gin defended. “And Tousen-chan resents my existence just as much as I resent his.”

 

                Sousuke breathed out a laugh, shaking his head at his protégé’s more childish tendencies. “And I suppose that won’t change anytime soon. Well, no matter; your goading is humorous if nothing else.” He tipped his head eastward. “On to the task at hand – Shinigami have just been dispatched through the Blue Stream Gate to confront the Hollows I have ordered into East Rukongai, and they aren’t quite as strong as the Hollows in the other parts. Would you care to lend our troops a hand? The Shinigami won’t provide much of a challenge but feel free to let loose all the same.”

 

                Gin’s smile widened, curving up into something sharp and sinister as Shinsou was withdrawn from one long bell sleeve. “Well, how can I refuse an offer like that? Do I have a time limit?”

 

                Sousuke waved a hand. “Not in the least. Take your time, or at least until the Shinigami flee for their lives anyway.”

 

                Gin snickered, sketched a languid salute, and then Shunpoed off towards the nearest East Rukongai districts, a blur of silvery-white against the blue sky.

 

                Sousuke watched him go with indulgent eyes before glancing up at the position of the sun. Hmm, he still had time to make another trip down to Karakura to continue merging the juureichi with all the souls he had gathered. It was a rather slow process, and it could be somewhat of a bother at times when the Humans trapped inside kept attempting to break out or run around screaming from the Hollows that Sousuke had left in that town as well.

 

                Nevertheless, work came first. If one of those Humans proved to be too annoying, he could always kill them to quiet them down, and all the Shinigami were too busy cowering behind their walls or doing damage control here in Soul Society to even attempt to stop him.

 

                He felt the flare of power coming from the Hogyoku in his chest. Nothing could stop him now.

 

**{1}**

 

                Almost absently, Gin swept his Zanpakutou to the side, watching Shinsou extend to about a quarter of her full length before cleaving through several dozen Shinigami. Screams permeated the air as flesh and bone were torn apart.

 

                He didn't care about any of them so they were all up for grabs. Then again, if he was really going to actively side with the Shinigami sooner or later, maybe he should consider cutting back a bit.

 

                Snapping Shinsou back to her original length, Gin ignored the fighting going on around him as he meandered through the increasingly broken streets of District 68. He turned down one deserted road, approaching a group of three Hollows that were devouring a Soul between them directly in his path.

 

                A second later, all three were dead, and Gin was retracting Shinsou once more. Nobody had seen.

 

                He skirted around the still writhing, partially-eaten body on the ground, barely giving it half a glance. Not his problem.

 

                He walked on, slowly making his way to the destination he had in mind. There were some people here whom he would have to get in contact with so that the second part of his plan to get Rangiku, Izuru, and the others back into the relative safety of Seireitei would be carried out successfully.

 

                He smiled at the thought of it. The second part would be infinitely easier compared to the first. Rukongai... well, Rukongai could be considered Gin’s domain, had been ever since someone upstairs had seen fit to dump a genius newborn with a broken moral compass into the dregs of humanity.

 

                Gin had always been different. Sure, there were other kids who had been raised in the unforgiving gutters of the poor and diseased, forged from the chilly fires of gut-gnawing starvation and knife-in-your-back threats at every corner, hardened by first blood and more blood, and tempered by ever-constant death.

 

                But Gin had known from an early age that survival was about more than just beating the next homeless orphan on the street to the scraps of food in the trash. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and if he’d wanted to survive, if he’d wanted to _live_ somewhere other than the very bottom rung of the food chain, he’d have to be the biggest dog. Or the fastest snake. And to do that, he had to be more than just strong. He’d have to be smart.

 

                And lucky for him, he had been born smart. And wired just a little bit off-centre as well.

 

                Because where other people saw a murderer and ran for their lives because they did _not_ need one more thing to fear on top of the everyday criminals, Gin had seen that same murderer and – instead – catalogued the man’s fears, his regrets, his desires, his _everything_ , and then Gin had made all those things _his_ , made that murderer _his_ (easy enough when all the man had wanted was vengeance against a woman who had betrayed him and left his heart in pieces but was too well-protected by bodyguards for him to get close so he’d settled for killing the woman’s acquaintances; Gin on the other hand looked like a mere child, and it was easy to approach the lady with a smile and childish adoration for her beauty and a basket full of belladonna berries), and then Gin had had one person to his name.

 

                And so on and so forth.

 

                Gin had bumped into a master thief running from an angry mob boss whom she had stolen money from, so he had instructed the aforementioned murderer to kill said boss, and then he had had two people to his name.

 

He’d happened upon a merchant heavy in debt, so he had gotten his thief to steal enough expensive wares for the merchant to sell and pay off his debt before building up his business from there, and then Gin had had three to his name.

 

He’d heard about a woman whose dead grandmother had taught her how to differentiate between a hundred different flowers, from poisonous ones to medicinal ones, and who had wanted nothing more than to open a flower shop beside her house but the greenery in her district had almost always been wilted and nowhere near pretty enough to entice much less sell, so he had gotten the merchant to import fresh flowers from the next district for that woman, and then Gin had had four people to his name.

 

He had come across a prostitute who had a calling card a mile long, filled with middle-class and even upper-class clients (who tended to talk after a few drinks), but who also had a baby daughter she had desperately wanted to keep yet had no means with which to provide for her _and_ work at the same time, so he had offered up the florist – who had already been making a decent amount of money just by selling such bright flowers in such a drab district – as a part-time babysitter since the florist had had no need to work in an environment unsuitable for children while the prostitute did (and as a bonus, the florist had begun teaching the child about flowers – poisonous ones included – as she had grown up), and then Gin had had five – _six_ – people to his name.

 

He had known how to pick them – the downtrodden, the dangerous, the insane – the broken ones people turned a blind eye to and pretended they couldn't see, the ones forgotten in the cracks of society who – deep in their hearts – only wanted a place to fit in or to stop having to look over their shoulders every minute of the day or to have someone who wouldn't betray them at the drop of a hat, and Gin had provided.

 

He had found them, he had helped them, and he had made all of them his to use and command, his ears and eyes, his mouths and hands and feet, his shield and sword against other criminals and rivals and enemies looking to kill him in the dark of night.

 

His soldiers.

 

His spies.

 

The people whose lives he had changed, for better or for worse depending on how you looked at it, and in exchange, they had made life much easier for Gin.

 

(And then there had been Rangiku, a girl with untamed but considerable reiatsu like his own, starving to death on the side of a gritty street in North Rukongai’s District 64, ignored like a piece of roadkill by everyone else. Gin had wanted to use her, it had been the entire reason he had saved her and taught her street-smarts in the first place, but then... but then...)

 

And his network had only grown after he had become a Shinigami. In the past, he had had to stick with reeling in the people who would fall for his mind games, only approaching the ones who would _not_ be able to outright double-cross or overpower him, but once he had obtained Shinsou, no one in the Rukongai Underground had been out of his reach if he’d wanted them for his own purposes.

 

And people often forgot that there was a reason that starvation was so rampant in Rukongai, especially in the outer districts. Those people _did_ have reiatsu, some just didn't have enough of it, or enough _will_ , or enough _desire_ to travel all the way to Seireitei and work to join a government that they had no interest in serving.

 

However, Gin had never forgotten.

 

Most Rukongai rats who entered the Academy to become a Shinigami wanted to forget where they had come from as soon as possible, especially with the nobility looking down on them, and the higher they rose in the military ranks, the more removed they would become from their origins.

 

Gin had never cared what other people thought of him though. He’d known for most of his life that when people looked at him, all they’d see was the deceit and cruelty that Gin had willfully submerged himself in from the moment he had learned to walk staring back at them, and Gin had never hidden it.

 

So he had never seen any need to forget his roots. It was a stupid thing to do anyway; forgetting about it wasn't going to make any difference to what you were. So once he had become a Shinigami, and he could get away from Aizen without raising suspicion, Gin had returned to the dirty underbelly of Soul Society that had been his home – was _still_ his home – and he had kept an eye out for those who had potential, those who had been desperate for the power to protect themselves but hadn’t known how to get it, and those whom Gin had seen a use for – men, women, or even children whom he might later want to call on to collect – he had reeled them in into his ever-growing web, tempting them with apprenticeships in various legal and illegal professions under some of his people, along with Hakuda and Kidou and even Hohou under his own tutelage before letting them pass those lessons on to others he had personally handpicked. For most of them, their reiatsu reserves would never be big enough for more than a little knowledge in each of the latter two but the combat techniques were still greedily – _gratefully_ – accepted anyway, thereby trapping them forever in his debt. Most of them had even entered his service willingly.

 

And those who didn't know how to pay their debts? Well, there was a reason people who didn't work for him looked at him with contempt and disgust most of the time, along with terror (that was universal) and righteous indignation to name a few more.

 

Gin had never claimed to be a good man, and he never would be that; it was probably why he understood Aizen so well – they were very similar on quite a few levels. They were both geniuses, equally manipulative, equally lacking in morals and honour, equally amused when toying with other people, and each of them had absolutely no qualms about sacrificing anyone or anything to reach their own goals.

 

The only difference between them was probably the fact that Gin didn't have half as much ambition and thirst for godhood as Aizen did; otherwise, Soul Society would've found itself contending with two would-be gods, and Gin would've been on the opposite side of the battlefield from Aizen in a three-way war.

 

A whisper of something cutting through the air brought Gin out of his trip down memory lane, and with a flick of his wrist, he used Shinsou to bat away the senbon that had been aimed for his neck. The needle clattered harmlessly to the dusty ground, winking a metallic silver save for the tip that was stained a curious electric blue.

 

Gin smiled, never losing composure despite the impromptu assassination attempt. “What’s this? A new poison, Taiyou-chan?”

 

A blur of Shunpo, as fast as a senior seated officer’s, entered his line of sight as a lithe bright blonde with the physical age of a teenager dressed in a black kimono with a red-petal design down the right side raced over the nearby rooftop before flipping down to land in a crouch in front of him, one fist planted against ground as she inclined her head respectfully. And then she looked up and flashed a tiny impish grin.

 

“Hana-san created it,” The blonde divulged, green eyes moving to the senbon on the ground before glancing up at Gin again. “Welcome home, Kitsune-sama.”

 

Gin smirked, inhaling the stench of poverty and blood and filth in the air. “Aa, it’s good ta be back.”

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	2. Chapter 2

                “I _really_ want a shower.”

 

                “We’re _prisoners_ ; which part of that do you not understand?”

 

                “But it’s been- what, two and a half weeks? I think it’s been two and a half weeks. And we’ve only been allowed two showers in all that time.   Once a week is a pretty damn long time between showers!”

 

                “I repeat – _prisoners._ ”

 

                Kisuke sighed to himself as he listened to Ichigo and Ishida bicker. There really wasn't much else to do, and tensions were fluctuating every other hour. Nobody liked the fact that they’d been locked up without knowing what would happen to them in the end despite Shinji’s conjectures.

 

                He glanced at the boys again, taking in Sado and Inoue as well before returning to the Quincy and the Substitute Shinigami. The former two were bad enough ( _they were only children fighting in a war of gods and monsters that they never should have taken part in_ ), but the latter two... if they didn't get out of here alive, and Kisuke _did_ , Isshin and Ryuuken were going to have his head.

 

                Dying via Engetsu while being stabbed full of holes by a couple hundred arrows was not the way Kisuke wanted to go.

 

                But.

 

                But he didn't know what to do.

 

                Kisuke had always had contingency plans lined up as far as the eye could see, a Plan Z even if Plan A to Y had all failed. But now...

 

                Well now even his Plan Z had been tossed out the window ( _Kurosaki-san would go with Isshin-san to learn the Final Getsuga Tenshou; Isshin-san had said it would be effective against Aizen-san, and as a final countermeasure, I would be there to seal the weakened Aizen-san if he truly proved to be immortal_ ) since Aizen and his armies had overpowered them before they had even gotten to that plan.

 

And now, Kisuke had no more cards to play.

 

He couldn't do anything locked up in here, and Aizen was arrogant but he wasn't stupid; the traitor had taken every measure necessary to ensure that his prisoners would not escape. Their Zanpakutou and all other weapons had been taken, they’d been collared, cuffed, and chained to the walls, only unchained for short bathroom breaks, the bathroom was in a separate room but still attached to the cell, there were two cameras in the room that Kisuke could see, there were no windows, there was a twenty-four-hour guard outside the liberally Kidou-spelled door, and Tousen came to check on them once every single day. Even if they somehow managed to get past all that, and _then_ get past the slew of Arrancar that would be sent after them, there was still the not-so-minor problem of getting out of Hueco Mundo. None of them had the ability to snap open a Garganta, it would take too long for Kisuke to build one, and whatever device Aizen used to create one had to be heavily guarded.

 

So, in other words, there was literally no way out.

 

Kisuke’s jaw tightened as his gaze dropped to his manacled wrists, his neck simultaneously bearing the humiliating weight of a suppression collar. He could barely hear Benihime’s whisper like this.

 

He could smack himself right now. Why hadn't he prepared for this outcome? Well actually, he had. He had had multiple schemes lined up in the event that Ichigo or his friends or both were captured, and Kisuke would have a rescue all planned out waiting on the side.

 

There was just one problem – in every one of those scenarios, Kisuke himself had always been free, always on the outside directing from the shadows, not locked up along with everyone else and ultimately _useless_.

 

“Not much we can do at this point,” Shinji’s voice was a steady murmur by his ear as the Visored leader slid down the wall to sit next to him. The Kidou chains at least allowed movement around the cell so long as they stayed close to the walls. “So stop beatin’ yourself up about it. I think the best opportunity we’re gonna get will be when they move us. They’ll have ta move us sometime, even if it’s just ta our execution stage.”

 

A sardonic smirk accompanied the last part, complete with actual – if somewhat morbid – humour in the face of their imminent deaths.

 

With some rather dry amusement of his own, Kisuke couldn't help comparing the man in front of him to one of their enemies.

 

All those decades ago, he had perked up upon hearing that another prodigy was coming through the Academy. He could just imagine all the things he would've been able to teach to a young genius mind without getting bogged down by the necessity of repeating himself over and over again or the need to slow down and explain everything in minute detail like he’d often had to do – and still did – whenever he had attempted to expound on some of his research and inventions to people who weren’t as... quick on the uptake as he was.

 

He’d been captain for all of a year when Ichimaru Gin had graduated, and he’d been more than a little disappointed when Aizen had managed to nab the boy before Kisuke had been able to grab him. It had been a little worrying too because Ichimaru had seemed entirely taken with Aizen, and Aizen was... well, Aizen was self-explanatory now, though back then, Kisuke hadn't really seen anything _evil_ in the man, per se, only something a bit _off_.

 

Still, Kisuke had thought that it would be okay since the Fifth Squad had been captained by Shinji back then, and one look and a short conversation with Ichimaru later had made Kisuke blink and do a double-take because there had definitely been faint parallels between the boy and his then-captain – both of them with an appreciation for quick wit and sly banter, both of them smiling or smirking away in the face of danger or otherwise (though Ichimaru certainly did it more often than Shinji), and both of them appearing utterly laidback in day-to-day life as if they lived only in the present, and the rest of the world – rushing along, and racing against time – was their own personal in-joke. Very rarely would either of them be genuinely serious (Kisuke had seen this a couple times with Shinji; never with Ichimaru).

 

For a time, Kisuke had even thought that the two of them – Shinji and Ichimaru – would get along quite well, yet even after several years, the former had taken very little interest in the genius posted in his division (which was a damn _shame_ , in Kisuke opinion; all that brain space to fill with knowledge, _wasted_ ).

 

But then, maybe the two of them had simply been _too_ similar to get along, or perhaps Shinji had taken one look at how close Ichimaru had been to Aizen and had mentally shoved the two together into the same category. Either way, without any ties to Soul Society – no loyalty to former captains who had never given him a second glance, or fellow Shinigami who had been instantly mistrustful of his naturally suspicious personality – was it really any wonder that Ichimaru had become one of Aizen’s closest followers?

 

Although...

 

Kisuke’s gaze drifted over to the long-haired blonde sitting beside her captain, shoulders slightly hunched as she stared absently at a patch of air.

 

There was something... _off_ about this as well, something that was niggling at the very edge of Kisuke’s mind, a tiny spark of a thought that had kept nagging at him ever since he had actively joined the Winter War.

 

The thought was a culmination of several small dismissible events that he’d seen or heard about, and that his brain had automatically recorded and overlapped with each other.

 

Small things. Hidden under layers of carefree deflections and mocking words and bloodthirsty smiles.

 

Small things like how Hiyori had thrown herself at _Aizen_ of all people after the madman had successfully provoked her, with no one to watch her back as she’d charged at him, and there had been absolutely no universe in which that would've turned out even remotely well.

 

                And then Gin had cut in, smirking away as his Zanpakutou had ripped into Hiyori’s side, looking positively gleeful as he’d bantered with Aizen while watching his victim fall out of the sky, caught in the nick of time by Shinji.

 

                But.

 

                But Hiyori had _survived_.

 

Hiyori had survived long enough for Unohana to heal her until she had no longer been in near-fatal condition.

 

Hiyori, whose reaction time and Shunpo speed were definitely slower than that of a captain’s, who had gotten sloppy in her moment of rage, who had been attacked by the _fastest_ Zanpakutou in all of Soul Society, was _alive_.

 

When she really, really shouldn't be.

 

And then there had been Ichigo, who had been outmatched and outmanoeuvred at almost every turn by the end. Ichimaru had toyed with him in their short-lived battle, looked about as amused as someone would if a fluffy kitten came up to them and attempted to attack them with baby teeth – everyone had seen as much.

 

Ichimaru had toyed with him instead of pushing him to his absolute limits, instead of running the boy ragged.

 

Toyed with him...

 

...and gave him so many outs, so many opportunities to run, that it seemed to reach beyond simple condescendence. Ichimaru had also ultimately conserved as much of Ichigo’s energy as possible so that when Aizen – fused with the Hogyoku – had stepped in and engaged the teen in battle, Ichigo had at least been able to hang on long enough after each critical blow that Aizen had dealt for his inner Hollow to continuously heal him with the reiatsu that Ichigo had fortunately not wasted in a pointless fight against Ichimaru.

 

And maybe Kisuke was only over-thinking it; maybe Ichimaru had simply wanted Hiyori to suffer before dying in Shinji’s arms, and maybe he’d had orders from Aizen to not kill Ichigo or push the boy too much so that the megalomaniac himself would be able to grind Ichigo into the ground, and yet...

 

And yet.

 

There had been a few other instances, all of them mere speculations at best, buried under hypothetical layers of deception courtesy of Ichimaru. If one didn't look too deeply into it, then all they would see was Ichimaru being his typical heartless, malicious, sadistic self.

 

All they would see was exactly what they expected to see.

 

                And what they expected to see did not match up with what Kisuke had heard only a week ago from the Tenth Division lieutenant.

 

                Kisuke was a man of detail; he took everything into account, even the little anecdotes soaked in nostalgia from the childhood friend of a snake like Ichimaru Gin.

 

                And putting it all together, well, _something_ smelled off. Now if only Kisuke could put his finger on what it might be.

 

                “What’re ya thinkin’?” Shinji interrupted his thoughts, side-eyeing him shrewdly. “Ya’ve got your ‘I’m on ta somethin’’ face on. Spill.”

 

                “Mm,” Kisuke’s hand was halfway up before he remembered that he no long had his hat. Damn it. Shinji caught the motion and sniggered at him. “Maa, it’s probably nothing.”

 

                Shinji gave him a pointed look. “Your ‘probably nothin’s’ are usually somethin’s, Kisuke.”

 

                Kisuke sighed. He could fool a lot of people in the world, or at least distract them enough to make them forget what they were asking him about in the first place, but Shinji had never been one of them.

 

                “What do you think of your Third Seat, Shinji-san?” Kisuke enquired idly, slanting a subtle scrutinizing glance at the blond.

 

                Shinji frowned at him. “... _Former_ Third Seat, ya mean, seein’ as I'm no longer a captain, and he _is_. Or was, I s’pose. Now neither of us are. Funny how some things work out.” He paused, visibly considering his next words. “Don’t really have much of an opinion. Fucker almost killed Hiyori though, so I guess he’s right up there with Aizen.”

 

                There were things Shinji wasn't saying, Kisuke realized because he himself was intimately familiar with the darkness in the other man’s eyes, darkness that spoke of regrets and guilt, all the things Kisuke saw in the mirror when he’d allowed himself to really look. After all, he had his own skeletons in the form of failed Hollowfications and incomplete Hogyokus and too-young teenagers forcibly dropped into wars they should never have had to fight.

 

                Shinji had his own ghosts haunting him, the what-ifs and could've-beens that cropped up in the dead of night when you couldn't sleep and had nothing else to keep your mind occupied. Shinji had been a captain, and every member of his division had been his responsibility, his to lead, his to guide, his to protect, yet he’d been too occupied with Aizen to give much thought to anyone else, and as a result, his Third Seat had fallen between the cracks, forgotten and then picked up again by a madman’s hands.

 

                It wasn't just Shinji either. For all that Kensei hated Tousen, there was a bit of regret there too, questions like _what if I had watched over him better_ and _could I have done something differently with him_ occasionally rearing their heads. Never often, and never for long, because each person was ultimately responsible for their own choices in the end no matter who had been accountable for giving them a push in the right – or wrong – direction.

 

Still, regrets like that snuck up on everyone now and again.

 

                “Why’re ya askin’ anyway?” Shinji prodded next. “What’s with the sudden interest?”

 

                Kisuke shrugged lightly. “There’s something about Ichimaru-san that doesn't seem right, that’s all.”

 

                Shinji scoffed. “Nothin’ about him seems right. He was creepy even when he firs’ entered the Fifth.”

 

                Kisuke couldn't help directing a slightly reproachful look at the Visored. Honestly, that was the sort of attitude that blinded Shinji from seeing what Aizen was up to in the first place. The blond had known what his lieutenant was but he’d been unable to see past his suspicions and truly figure out what Aizen was planning at the time, always too wary to do anything but keep the vice-captain at arm’s length.

 

Not that Kisuke blamed him for that of course – nobody wanted to get particularly close to Aizen – but the reality of it stood.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shinji grumbled at once, glowering scathingly right back at him. “Ya haven’t got half a leg ta stand on. Last time I checked, you're the one who got the kiddies involved in all this, and might I remind ya, hidin’ your Hogyoku in the Kuchiki girl and lettin’ her get dragged off back ta Seireitei was the entire incident that kicked off the war in the first place. Ya played right inta Aizen’s hands.”

 

Kisuke blinked, inwardly cringing at the deliberate jab. Well, it was true enough. Maybe he hadn't been a _direct_ catalyst, but he – along with Isshin on some level – had had a hand or four in trapping Ichigo and – by association – the others into this mess, for all that the four teens had charged in willingly enough once the ball had started rolling. And hiding the Hogyoku in Kuchiki Rukia was – admittedly – not the best idea he’d ever come up with.

 

There was a long moment of silence between them.

 

“...Sorry,” Shinji was the first to relent, dragging a hand through his hair before grimacing in disgust at how bedraggled it was. “That was uncalled for.”

 

Kisuke offered an apologetic smile of his own, wishing he had his fan. “I suppose neither of us has room to point fingers.”

 

Shinji snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

 

They were quiet again for a long minute, listening to the low buzz of conversation occurring in pockets around their cell.

 

“It’s going to take a miracle to get all of us out alive,” Kisuke commented in a rare bout of sobriety.

 

Shinji smiled thinly, jangling his chains. “Well, it’s almost Christmas. Perfect time ta start prayin’ for one.”

 

Kisuke quirked a wry smile. He wanted to tell Shinji that he would've started praying a long time ago if he had believed it would do anyone any good.

 

**{2}**

 

                “And who’th dat?”

 

                Gin glanced at the screen before returning his attention to the Arrancar’s skull mask. “Kuchiki Byakuya, captain of the Sixth. Now be quiet.”

 

                He ran a pulse of his own reiatsu over the broken side of the skull before scribbling down the newest output ratio into the column of data he had gathered.

 

                “Hey, so who’th dat one den?”

 

                Gin suppressed a sigh and followed the girl’s insistent finger. His lip curled. “Hirako Shinji, exiled Visored. My dear former captain.” He turned back to his work. “I said quiet.”

 

                Honestly, he wouldn't even be in the same room as the brat if he could help it, but to change her back, he _did_ have to examine her, and he wasn't going to risk bringing her out into his non-soundproofed sitting room to do it. Plus, she’d been getting bored, and had apparently even begun driving her _Fraccion_ up the wall after spending a week locked up in the room Gin had set aside for them, plus she’d started whining for Kurosaki, so Gin had set up a television screen and connected it to one of the cameras in the jail cell so that Nelliel would shut up.

 

                She _hadn't_ shut up. After gushing over Kurosaki, she’d gone on to ask Gin about the others in the prison, and to keep her – relatively – still, he had reluctantly obliged. That didn't stop him from trying to get her to stay silent.

 

                _Glorified babysitter was nowhere in any of my job descriptions,_ he mentally lamented as he mentally computed the frequency of the reishi-absorption rate.

 

                “And who’th dat one? He lookth ’cary.”

 

                It was lucky Gin had patience to spare. After all, one didn't lie in wait for over a _century_ just to get close to Aizen without an abundance of patience. He glanced up again. “Mm... Ushouda somethin’. Hachigen, I think. He’s also a Visored friend o’ Kurosaki-kun’s.”

 

                “Eehh? So he’th a good guy? Itsygo would only be friends wit’ good guys!”

 

                Gin tuned her out, running another scan along the crack in the Hollow mask. The reiatsu leaking from it was ridiculous; if the girl didn't annoy him so much, he’d even admit to being mildly impressed with the fact that she was still alive and functioning. No wonder her spiritual body had shrunk; what with the rate at which she was losing it, she no longer had enough reiatsu to constantly maintain her original form.

 

                “Hey! Two guard people jutht went in!”

 

                Gin flicked another glance at the screen. Indeed, two Arrancar – Numeros – had just lumbered into the cell (that really would've been considered a spacious room if there hadn't been any prisoners in it). He looked at the clock on the wall. Dinner wasn't for another three hours; maybe they were bored. He’d heard a passing remark from Tousen about how the guards had been getting rowdier lately, heckling the prisoners for fun.

 

                He concentrated on his notes once more. If he wanted to fully repair the damage to Nelliel’s Hollow mask, the primary input rate of reiatsu would have to be... 8.965 times the output rate, and then he’d have to include the balanced ratio of her-

 

                “Ne, Gin-thama! Are dey suppothed ta be doin’ dat?”

 

                Gin’s pencil stopped mid-number. He smiled down at his work and comforted himself with mental images of all the different ways he could kill the little brat in front of him. He counted backwards from ten before looking up again.

 

                His smile stayed but he a frown creased his brow. There was no audio built into the cameras but Gin didn't need it to get the gist of what was happening. The two Arrancar had unchained the girl – sweet little Orihime-chan – and hauled her forward, jeering at her about something or other. Kurosaki was going nuts, straining as far as he could against his shackles while shouting at the guards. The Quincy and the other boy were less physical about it but both looked equally incensed. The others in the room were all on edge as well, some even crouching, though what they thought they’d be able to do all chained up against the wall, Gin didn't know.

 

                The healing princess herself looked downright terrified, as she’d often looked when Aizen had kidnapped her the first time around. Her brown eyes were wide with fear, though she seemed to be trying to contain it even as she struggled wildly in the two Arrancar’s grasp.

 

                And she _should_ be struggling, if the Arrancar’s derisive laughter and wandering hands were anything to go by.

 

                Gin watched for a moment longer, and then returned to his work.

 

                “Gin-thama! What’re ya doin’?!” Nelliel screeched. “You have ta help ’er!”

 

                Gin spared the girl half a glance as his mind multiplied the five factors that he’d gotten from the Hollow mask’s regeneration rate. “Why?”

 

                Nelliel balked before recovering and yelling, “They’re gonna hurt ’er! She’th really scared!”

 

                “Mm-hm,” Gin hummed absently, double-checking his data again. Wait, that number was wrong; it should be-

 

                “GIN-THAMA!!”

 

                Gin did sigh this time as he looked up to stare squarely at the girl, smile wide and sharp and maybe even a little insane as it spread across his face. “ _Not my problem._ ”

 

                Nelliel recoiled, and Gin’s ears thanked the gods for the reprieve. _Now_ he could work in peace.

 

                For a few seconds anyway.

 

                “...Yer a bad man,” Nelliel accused in a very small voice.

 

                Gin didn't so much as falter in his calculations. “I've never once claimed ta be otherwise in my entire life.”

 

                A sniffle sounded, and then another, and then another, until they rose to actual tearful whimpers, and the two Fraccion began muttering consolations, attempting to comfort their child-master as best they could.

 

                Gin didn't so much as twitch. Tears were nothing new to him, though admittedly, those who wanted to survive in Rukongai learned to erase their tears fast. Rape was nothing new to him either. Whenever business had taken him to the outer districts, to the blatantly deplorable slums, sexual assault in dark, grimy alleyways wasn't exactly uncommon. When Gin had been much younger – still baby-faced enough to be a victim until he had learned to be quick enough and smart enough to run and hide and evade – he’d be scooting off in the opposite direction if he saw a woman being attacked. He wouldn't give any assistance, which had been and still was perfectly logical in his books; he hadn't been a Shinigami back then, and while he’d been an expert at blackmailing and bribing and slipping a knife between an enemy’s ribs when they least expected it, fighting someone head-on for a complete stranger would've been both stupid and pointless.

 

                Gin didn't _condone_ rape – if word got out that someone in his network was going around assaulting defenceless women, they’d be dead before sundown, and he wouldn't even have to be the one to take care of them. Gin had iron control over his network, and his people knew the rules; if they broke them, they paid for it in blood. But the Bambi-eyed Orihime-chan wasn't one of his people, he had no obligation to protect her, and he didn't really care about her one way or the other.

 

                Besides, he doubted the Arrancar would go all the way; Aizen had given clear orders that the prisoners weren’t to be harmed too much since he had plans for them. The guards would probably toy with her a bit before letting her go.

 

                So, not his problem. What _was_ his problem was restoring Nelliel so that his plan could move forward.

 

                _I’ll have to include the disintegration rate as well before I can start on the restoration process of the Hollow mask-_

 

                “Dey let ’er go! Dat other big-breathted woman’s takin’ ’er place!”

 

                Gin froze. His pencil stabbed a hole in the sheet of paper he had been writing on. He looked up.

 

                ...What the _hell_ did Rangiku think she was doing?

 

                Well, obviously, she was taking Orihime-chan’s place. Even without sound, Gin could tell that she was flirting and mouthing off at the same time, chest thrust out alluringly, probably scoffing at the Arrancar for picking some Human girl when they could have someone so much more experienced-

 

                The pencil in his hand snapped when the Arrancar grabbed the idiot woman. The chibi captain beside her threw himself forward, snarling with fury and masked panic.

 

                Rangiku had always been a bleeding heart.

 

                _It’s called kindness, Gin_ , Rangiku’s voice floated back to him from once upon a time, admonishing and exasperated in turn. _It wouldn't hurt for you to show it more often, you know_. _I know you have it in you._

 

                No, he didn't know. And he didn't have any to speak of.

 

                Gin blinked, having unintentionally opened his eyes. Goddamn that woman. If he liked her any less than he did, he’d absolutely hate her. She was a weakness.

 

                She was also his purpose, had been for over a century, and didn't that just take the cake.

 

                He looked away from the screen, catching Nelliel’s gaze. The girl was watching him with huge knowing eyes, lit with solemn epiphany.

 

                Infuriating brat.

 

                Gin tightened his jaw for a moment, firmly yanking his emotions under his time-tested control once again, and then stood up, tossing the remains of his pencil onto the desk.

 

                “Stay,” He ordered flatly, an empty smile curving his lips once more. To her credit, Nelliel only nodded obediently.

 

                Gin took one more look at the screen before grabbing his robe and Shunpoing out the door, pausing only long enough to lock it behind him.

 

                Sometimes, he cursed the day he had ever met Matsumoto Rangiku.

 

**{2}**

 

                Rangiku really wished her captain would stop yelling. She appreciated the thought, but the underscore of horror in Hitsugaya’s voice wasn't doing any favours for her nerves.

 

                It wasn't as if she wasn't afraid of what was going to happen ( _the short time she’d been alive before meeting Gin had been terrifying_ ) but it was a hell of a lot better if she went through it instead of a _sixteen-year-old girl_. Besides, she wasn't exactly a virgin anymore, plus she’d slept around a bit just for fun, so that had to count for something.

 

                “Don’t be shy,” One Arrancar taunted, shoving her towards the door. “Ya _did_ volunteer. Don’t worry; we won’t hurt ya. Much.”

 

                “We just wanna have some fun,” The other Arrancar added, grinning hungrily from the Hollow mask that still covered half his face. “It gets boring just watching the lot of you day in and day out.”

 

                Rangiku glared hatefully at both guards but Inoue’s hiccupping sobs in the background hardened her resolve.

 

                “You bastards get your hands off her!” Hitsugaya sounded almost feral behind her as he strained against his shackles.

 

                Rangiku almost tripped as the Arrancar just laughed and propelled her forward. Her throat was tight, and her heart was beating a staccato rhythm behind her ribcage.

 

                She almost wanted to laugh at herself. How many years had it been since she’d been as helpless as she was now?

 

                ( _“Let go! Gin! Gin, help!”_ )

 

                The memory pounced on her without warning.

( _“Ya heard her. Let ’er go. Now.”_ )

 

                She bit her lip as the door loomed even closer.

 

                ( _“Th- Thanks, Gin.”_ )

 

                Rangiku gritted her teeth.

 

                ( _“Mm, ya know, Rangiku, next time, ya shouldn't show fear. People like them get off on fear.”_ )

 

                She squared her shoulders.

 

                ( _“But- But there won’t be a next time, right?”_ )

 

                The door swung open before they reached it. Were there more Arrancar waiting outside?

 

                ( _“’Course not. You're with me now. But ya know, just in case.”_ )

 

                Just in case-

 

                “Oh? What’s happenin’ ’ere?”

 

                Rangiku stilled, and then her gaze flickered up to stare wide-eyed at the silver-haired figure that had just arrived, lounging against the doorway with an air of complete indifference.

 

                He was her enemy now.

 

                He was an Aizen lackey.

 

                He was part of the reason she was locked up here in the first place.

 

                There was no guarantee he would even help her.

 

                Regardless of all that, a large part of her still slumped with heart-stopping relief the second she caught sight of him.

 

                “I- Ichimaru-sama!” Both Arrancar released her like they’d been burned, both of them snapping to attention. “We- We were just having some fun! They're just prisoners so...”

 

                It didn't take a genius to hear the nervousness underscoring their every word and movement.

 

                Gin examined them for another few seconds before pushing off the doorway and strolling forward with the leisure prowl of a large feline just beginning its hunt. Behind him, out in the hallway, two more Arrancar were hovering at a respectful distance, neither of them daring to enter.

 

                “Were ya?” Gin’s signature smile never wavered as he approached. “Havin’ fun?”

 

                The two Arrancar traded a rather uneasy look between them before nodding cautiously. Surreptitiously, Rangiku slipped away, shuffling backwards and away from the impending altercation. The entire room was silent now in a way that suggested that all the occupants were holding their breath.

 

                A gleam of metal caught her eye, and Rangiku watched as the two guards stiffened even further at the sight of Gin’s wakizashi sliding neatly into the man’s palm before long slender fingers began twirling the blade with flippant negligence. Round and round and round, and the two Arrancar seemed apprehensively mesmerized.

 

                “Well,” Gin’s playful tone was almost jarring after the long tension-filled silence. “Ya’ve had your fun. I think playtime’s over though. They may be prisoners but Aizen-taichou specifically said he didn't want ’em harmed.”

 

                Both guards nodded vigorously. Gin’s smile widened even as his head tilted towards the door. The silent command was heard loud and clear, and the Arrancar certainly had no need of any further prompting. They bowed low before scuttling past Gin, giving the Shinigami as wide a berth as possible without making it too apparent.

 

                Shinsou continued looping around Gin’s hand, never faltering.

 

                The Arrancar were almost at the door now. Their backs faced the rest of the room with the door straight in front of them.

 

                _Never turn your back on a predator_ , Rangiku thought without an ounce of pity. She knew what would happen before Gin even moved.

 

                The first Arrancar reached the door, the second not far behind.

 

                Shinsou clacked to a decisive stop in the palm of Gin’s hand, the tip of the sword pointing right, directly at-

 

                “ _Ikorose,_ ” Gin intoned softly, and sky blue eyes flashed open, the beautiful colour entirely at odds with his expression as his smile abruptly twisted into something dark and macabre. “ _Shinsou._ ”

 

                The Arrancar didn't even have time to _consider_ throwing themselves out of the way before Shinsou had struck, impaling both through the head from behind, the Zanpakutou’s steel slamming through bone and brain matter.

 

                Inoue released a yelp, and several others choked on gasps, but other than that, all that could be heard was the twin wet _rip_ that echoed off the walls as Gin flicked his wrist and plunged his several-foot-long blade downwards, bisecting the two Arrancar almost completely in half from skull to abdomen before finally retracting his Zanpakutou.

 

                The dull thuds of two bodies hitting the ground was accompanied by small flecks of blood splattering down around them as Gin calmly rid Shinsou of the crimson liquid staining the metal before whisking the wakizashi out of sight once more.

 

                “Ah, that was a bit messier than I’d hoped,” Gin’s smile had returned to normal, or at least his public everyday version of normal. His eyes were shuttered again as he turned to face the remaining two Arrancar out in the hall, both of whom looked like they very much wanted to run away.

 

“Ya two, clean this up for me, will ya?” Gin waved a hand at the corpses. “I think you're good enough ta find two others ta replace these guards.” Another brief glimmer of blue was seen before they were hidden away once more. “And you’ll all be followin’ Aizen-taichou’s orders very carefully from now on, won’t ya?”

 

                The Arrancar both nodded hastily and dove into their assigned job like their lives depended on it. Considering the situation, that very well might be true.

 

                And then Gin was turning around, and Rangiku straightened, not sure what to expect. A few feet behind her, she heard Hitsugaya shift restlessly in place.

 

                She wanted to say thank-you, surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly. And she wanted to slap him; that was a no-brainer. And maybe sit on him until he coughed up all the answers she wanted.

 

                “Better get comfortable again, Rangiku,” Gin was the first to break the silence. He made no move to close the three feet of distance between them. Behind him, the remaining guards had disappeared out the door, dragging the two bodies with them. “You’re gonna be ’ere for awhile.”

 

                Rangiku automatically scowled but did as she was told and dropped back down next to her captain again. Hitsugaya’s relief was palpable as his shoulder pressed against her arm.

 

                Gin had followed her, and under Hitsugaya’s icy glower, the former Third Division captain crouched down and reconnected the chains with her cuffs, still smiling away like nothing was wrong.

 

                All at once, anger bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. How could he? Hadn't they been friends? _Close_ friends once upon a time? How could he betray all that without batting an eye?

 

                As Gin’s hands withdrew, her muscles flexed before her brain could stop them, and without thinking, Rangiku angled her elbow upwards and slammed it straight into Gin’s face.

 

                The impact actually sent the silver-haired Shinigami stumbling back a step, especially since he had been squatting down. Only his right foot shifting back in time to catch himself stopped him from falling on his ass. One pale hand immediately went up to his mouth, and when it lowered, everyone could see his split lip.

 

                Another nasty silence prevailed. Out of the corner of her eye, Rangiku caught the way Hitsugaya’s expression seemed frozen between approval and dread.

 

                For his part, Gin merely stared at her. His eyes were still slitted shut but his smile had momentarily fallen away, and the slightest of frowns now marred his brow. Five thunderous seconds ticked by, and then, even though the frown remained, he smiled again, except this time, it looked...

 

                It looked like the exact same smile he had given her all those months ago when she had cut in just in time to save Hinamori from getting killed by Gin. She’d called him ‘Ichimaru-taichou’ (for the first time) and told him that he’d have to kill her if he wanted to continue attacking.

 

                He’d backed off after that even though Haineko had been mere seconds away from shattering under Shinsou’s deadly bite. And he’d smiled at her like he was proud and sad and something else she hadn't been able to pinpoint all at the same time, and then he had turned and walked away from her.

 

                He was always walking away from her.

 

                “...Don’t think ya’ve ever hit me b’fore,” Gin remarked like he was commenting on the weather.

 

                Rangiku glared back defiantly. “There’s a first for everything. And you damn well deserve it.”

 

                Gin’s frown smoothed away, and his features relaxed back into his usual eerie facade of detached amusement. “So there is. And so I do.”

 

                Then he was standing up, and Hitsugaya instantly tensed, but Gin only folded his hands together, tucking them away into his voluminous sleeves before retreating, turning on his heel and heading for the door, white robe flapping behind him.

 

                And apparently, that was that. There was no retaliation for the split lip, no anything. Even Tousen had smacked Hisagi around a little after that one time the lieutenant had lost it and openly spat insult after insult at his former captain about his idea of justice, and then even attempted to trip the man up when Tousen had drawn close enough.

 

                Something like desperation made her lungs constrict, and Rangiku lunged forward as far as her chains would allow. “Gin! I want an explanation! Why are you following Aizen of all people?! What did he offer you?! Tell me! You owe me that much!”

 

                Gin never stopped, never even looked back as he reached the door.

 

                Rangiku’s hands balled into fists, ignoring the hand Hitsugaya laid on her forearm as if urging her to stop pushing the issue any further.

 

                “Gin!” She pressed once more. “At least tell me why! Aizen said he wanted to stand on top of the world, to become a god, and Tousen said he wanted to follow his damn justice, but what about you? Even when you left with Aizen, you never said what your own reasons were. It’s not like you to bow to anyone, so at least tell me why you’d follow Aizen!”

 

                Gin paused in the doorway, and for a moment, Rangiku thought she would finally get something out of him, but in the end, the former captain only glanced back at her briefly, spared another second-long look for Kira, and then ghosted out of the cell altogether.

 

                As the two Arrancar from before filed back in to mop up the blood still pooled on the ground, Rangiku’s shoulders sagged. She started a bit when the hand around her forearm tightened momentarily.

 

                “You tried,” Hitsugaya offered somewhat stiffly but there was a spark of sympathy in his eyes.

 

                Rangiku shrugged in defeat. There wasn't much she could say to that.

 

                “I personally thought the elbow was a nice touch,” Renji chimed in, and then got whacked over the head by Rukia. “Ow!”

 

                “Read the atmosphere!” Rukia hissed, and Rangiku’s mouth twitched into an unbidden smile.

 

                “It’s okay, Rukia-chan,” Rangiku grinned somewhat wryly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months now.”

 

                Conversation was put on hold as everybody watched the two Arrancar finish cleaning up before all but fleeing the room, door clanging shut behind them. Gin had really left an impression.

 

                “Um, Matsumoto-san?”

 

                Rangiku glanced questioningly over at Ichigo. The enraged flush in his cheeks had gone down even though Inoue was still clinging to his arm with a death grip. Ichigo didn't seem to mind, and the healer was safely ensconced between the Substitute Shinigami and Ishida now, with Sado seated in front of her.

 

                “Uh,” Ichigo gestured at the door. “Was Gin your... I mean, were you- together or something?”

 

                If Rangiku had been drinking something, she would've done a spit-take. “What? No, of course not! We were only friends! Why would you say that?”

 

                They _had_ been just friends, though maybe ‘just’ wasn't the right word here. Rangiku had gravitated towards that silver-haired man from the very beginning, and it had been more than just the fact that he had saved her. They had clicked, instantly, so to speak. Still, Gin had never really shown any interest so Rangiku hadn't allowed herself to explore any paths leading in that direction. Better for both of them, especially now that they were on opposite sides of the metaphorical battlefield.

 

                Ichigo looked mildly embarrassed even as he shrugged. “Well, he _did_ just charge all the way down here to slaughter two of his own men for you even though he’s supposed to be our enemy.”

 

                Rangiku stomped down hard on any blush that might’ve been threatening to appear on her face, especially with the way Hitsugaya’s eyebrows were steadily inching towards his hairline as he peered up at her. “He did not _charge_ down here!”

 

                “Well, he _hasn't_ been down here since we were captured,” Kira pointed out with a hint of humour in his voice, and Rangiku spluttered uncharacteristically at him. “So unless Taich- unless he just happened to wander down here at the same time you were being... harassed, well, it’s a pretty big coincidence.”

 

                Rangiku scowled, huffing sullenly. “Oh be quiet. It’s not like that. Tousen could've sent him.”

 

                Hisagi snorted at this, showing how likely he thought this was. He’d become increasingly caustic towards his former captain ever since Tousen had shown that he was more than capable of killing his closest friend.

 

                “Not another word,” Rangiku warned the entire room in general. Belatedly, she wondered if protesting like she had could be construed as the exact opposite of what she was trying to convince them of in the first place.

 

                She drew up her knees and rested her forehead on them. Stupid Gin. Betraying the Gotei 13, and then giving her a chance to run, and now saving her. The least that bastard could do was stop giving her mixed signals!

 

                And damn, if that didn't sound like two teenagers dancing around a relationship. She was getting way too old for this.

 

**{2}**

 

                “Not a word,” Gin commanded as soon as he walked back into Nelliel’s room, tongue swiping distractedly over his split lip. He could swear Rangiku had steel-plated elbows.

 

As he sat down, he ignored the way Nelliel only giggled at him, peeking up at him with bright eyes and a brighter smile.

 

                “Yer still a bad man,” The girl announced with childish certainty. “But yer not all bad. So Nel thinks yer okay.”

 

                _And if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it,_ Gin mentally griped as he began working again. He didn't say it aloud. He was already acting out of character as it was. It seemed that compulsory prolonged exposure to Espada children had detrimental effects to his psyche. He had to remember that.

 

                What had he been thinking anyway? He should’ve waited until he was out of sight of _half the Gotei 13_ before killing those two Arrancar. Sure, he’d seen fear on more than one Shinigami’s face, but at the same time...

 

                At the same time, that had been a blatant display of emotion that he really shouldn't have shown.

 

                Especially in front of geniuses like Urahara Kisuke. That man...

 

                That man was far too much like Gin himself for his liking.

 

                It wasn't just because they were both prodigies in their own right either. Hitsugaya was a genius as well, but that chibi captain was too emotional, too blinded by his hatred of Gin to prove to be anything more than a nuisance, not to mention he was still fairly young. Besides, Hitsugaya’s brilliance laid mostly in combat and battle strategy. Excluding personality, the Tenth Division captain took after Shiba Kaien most of all.

 

                Urahara on the other hand was the sort of genius Gin was, or – he supposed – Gin was the sort of genius Urahara was. An all-rounder; talented both on and off the battlefield – a skilled fighter, a master manipulator, and an expert at reading other people’s emotions and actions and then twisting them to suit their own needs, sometimes even without conscious thought. The world was their playing field, the people in it the pieces, and they themselves were the masterminds who made up the very rules of the game. It was just the way their brains were built; constantly noting down everything that might give them even the tiniest advantage, and filing it all away to be used at the most opportune moment.

 

                Gin liked a challenge as much as the next person, but when the stakes were as high as they were right now, well, there was nothing he hated more than dealing with people so much like himself because they were the only ones who could give him a run for his money.

 

                And that included Aizen Sousuke.

 

                When it came to Aizen, Gin could admit without shame that the would-be god had him beat on almost all accounts. The man simply outstripped him in practically every single area – mental prowess, skill, and definitely experience. Gin always kept that in mind, always reminded himself that Aizen was on a much higher level than he was, that he had to be careful at all times even when it seemed as if he was getting the upper hand, because the moment he forgot that difference would probably be the moment Aizen saw through all of Gin’s tricks and treachery. It was _because_ he knew exactly what Aizen was capable of that Gin had managed to keep up with the overlord’s games for so long.

 

                But more than once, even Aizen had commented on Urahara’s competency. The officer-turned-exile was certainly no pushover if someone like Aizen had acknowledged him, and despite the fact that Gin had semi-aligned himself with the Shinigami against Aizen long before said Shinigami had even known they should be standing against the overlord, that didn't mean Gin wanted to have someone like Urahara watching his every move.

 

Heck, who knew how much the shopkeeper had already seen? What if the ex-captain had seen ( _of course he had_ ) how... _possessive_ of Rangiku Gin was, and tried to hang that connection over Gin’s head in the future to blackmail him into doing whatever the shopkeeper wanted?

 

(Nobody blackmailed Ichimaru Gin. Or at least, nobody blackmailed Ichimaru Gin and got away with it with their life intact.)

 

                Well, if it really came to that, Gin would just have to cause a little accident. Or a big one, depending on what kind of adversary Urahara Kisuke could turn out to be.

 

                It might _not_ come to that though. Gin had heard Aizen mention it several times before – Urahara could make sacrifices when necessary, could make the choices nobody else wanted to make, but only _to a limited degree_. Apparently, unlike Aizen, unlike _Gin_ , the former Twelfth Division captain had lines drawn where too far would be _too far_. Using Rangiku against Gin might give Urahara some pause, especially ever since the man had become properly acquainted with one Kurosaki Ichigo. From what Gin had seen and heard of the boy, Kurosaki had an astounding knack for changing the people around him.

 

                Ah well. Urahara wasn't Gin’s biggest problem right now. He could deal with that if and when it became an issue. At the moment, the sooner he got those prisoners freed, the better.

 

                ...Still, he should watch himself a little more carefully from now on when he interacted with them. He had to gain their trust, but not in a way that would compromise himself.

 

                “Gin-thama?”

 

                Gin sighed (He was sighing a lot these days; who knew children took so much work? Taiyou was never this hard to deal with.) but glanced up anyway, scanning the television screen while he was at it. Rangiku looked okay, and the others had settled down as well.

 

                “Why’re you helpin’ dem if you don’ even like mos’ of ’em?”

 

                Gin smiled down at the little girl. To his private displeasure, Nelliel seemed to have adapted to his eternal grin and didn't so much as flinch. He knew Shinigami and Arrancar alike five times her age who were still creeped out when Gin so much as looked at them.

 

                “For the war effort, o’ course,” Gin ran a stream of his reiatsu along the crack in the kid’s mask. Maybe if he kept her occupied with a little bit of information, she wouldn't be as troublesome. “The Shinigami will need all the help they can get if they wanna beat Aizen-taichou.”

 

                Nelliel cocked her head curiously, and then stilled obediently when Gin slitted his eyes open in warning. “But Nel t’ought yer on Aizen’s side.”

 

                Gin’s smile curved higher on his face. “I'm on no one’s side but my own.”

 

                “Not even de Shinigami’s?”

 

                Gin tilted her head back to examine the broken edge of the skull mask. “Nope. My side jus’ happens ta be the same side as theirs righ’ now. That’s all.”

 

                Hmm. If he had a microscope on hand (and he’d have to go fetch one from the labs later), he’d bet that the bone along the broken edge would be disintegrating and regenerating at tremendous but approximately identical speeds. Without magnification, it just looked like nothing was happening and that the missing piece of the skull had simply been chipped off cleanly, leaving a closed wound – a scar of sorts - behind.

 

                That wasn't quite right though; the wound was still very much open. It had to be since Nelliel had shrunk and had _stayed_ shrunk. And if Gin didn't fix it, the disintegration would most likely eventually overpower the Arrancar’s natural regeneration. Which would – needless to say – end up killing her.

 

                Gin pulled back and eyed the girl critically before turning back to his notes. He was probably going to need around another week to finish his calculations and restore her Hollow mask fully.

 

                “...What did Aizen do ta you to make you hate ’im?”

 

                Gin absently erased a pair of figures that were throwing off the statistics. He’d have to do that one again.

 

                “Gin-thama?”

 

                Gin stopped and pinned the inquisitive girl with closed eyes and a fake smile. He extended a hand and pushed her lightly in the direction of her Fraccion. “No more questions. Go play.”

 

                Nelliel blinked up at him, and then – for once – dropped her line of enquiry and waddled off to join the other two occupants of the room.

 

                Gin buried himself back in his research. He wasn't bothered again that day.

 

**{2}**

 

                “ _What have you done with my son?!_ ”

 

                Gin was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes as he dodged a slash aimed at his throat. Honestly, if the man wanted an answer, putting off beheading him until _after_ Gin had at least given a reply would be the smart thing to do.

 

                “Who knows?” Gin said airily as he parried another blow with Shinsou. “Are ya worried, Shiba-taichou?”

 

                Kurosaki Isshin growled wordlessly and sprang at Gin once more, eyes narrowed into a fierce glare.

 

                Gin had been sent out into Rukongai again since apparently, the Shinigami had finally pulled their act together and patched up their troops as best they could before sending them out in a much more organized fashion to fight off all the Hollows invading Soul Society, so Aizen had told him to go cause some havoc amongst them.

 

It looked like Isshin had been allowed back into Seireitei, though that was a given seeing how the old man needed everyone he could get on his side. Gin had also heard from Aizen that those twin sisters and Ishida Senior and even those other spiritually aware friends of Kurosaki had been nowhere to be found in the city. At least Kurosaki would be pleased about that.

 

                “I repeat,” Isshin spat out, tone low and deadly and about as effective on Gin as a feather duster would be. “What’ve you bastards done with Ichigo?”

 

                Gin smirked, surging forward in the blink of an eye as he extended Shinsou at an arching angle. His Zanpakutou scored a deep gouge along the former captain’s left side, making Isshin curse even as he attempted to retaliate with Engetsu.

 

                Gin was already dancing out of the way however. Isshin was good, but Gin was better, especially since the older Shinigami had put down his sword for so long. Even without reiatsu after saving his wife, the man should’ve at least kept up with whatever training he could. Hakuda wouldn't have been beyond Isshin’s capabilities yet Gin knew from Aizen that the doctor had only used it to attack his son every time they saw each other, nothing more.

 

                Foolish of him.

 

                (And it was a stupid way to train the boy. To pitch Kurosaki against _Aizen_ with only informal on-and-off training for most of his life before dumping him headlong and flying blind into a whole new world was absurd; if it had been up to Gin, he would've never stood for such a ludicrous method.)

 

                “Answer me!” Isshin demanded, releasing a blue Getsuga Tenshou that took out five houses and an entire section of the nearby long-abandoned market, and completely missed Gin in the process.

 

                Like father, like son. By the heavens, Gin missed his spars against Kaien. At least Kaien had had a head on his shoulders and knew how to use it against his opponents despite being a hotheaded Shiba underneath his rank and station.

 

                “I suppose I could tell ya that he’s alive,” Gin offered amicably, thoroughly enjoying himself as he screwed with Isshin’s mind. “For now at least. Aizen-taichou’s got big plans for him. But don’ worry; you’ll prob’ly see your boy again one las’ time. Ya might even get ta say g’bye. Ain’t that nice-”

 

                Gin laughed to himself as he ducked a swipe of Engetsu before spinning on his heel to Isshin’s other side and snagging the man’s free arm. Isshin immediately brought Engetsu around but Gin didn't let him get away unscathed. With a deft twist of his wrist, he snapped the older Shinigami’s arm before darting away again, grinning ruefully when Engetsu tore a line down the front of his robe.

 

                “Ah,” Gin observed cheerfully, tugging on the split seam of his pseudo-haori even as Isshin gritted his teeth and put some distance between them, pain tightening his features as he cradled his broken arm to his chest. “That musta hurt.”

 

                Above them in the cloud-smothered skies, Hollow and Shinigami clashed noisily. Gin watched them idly; this particular batch of Shinigami was tiring. If no backup came for them soon, the Menos Grande and Adjuchas would get the upper hand.

 

                “You shouldn't look away,” His opponent’s voice snapped from Gin’s blind spot.

 

                Gin smiled and brought up Shinsou to block the oncoming blow without sparing the man a glance. “And ya shouldn't give me any warnin’s. Ya’ve gotten rusty, Shiba-taichou. What a shame. You're real borin’ now.”

 

                Gin’s eyebrows rose when Isshin pulled back abruptly, tucking Engetsu under one arm before using his freed hand to execute an Oni Dekopin.

 

                How cute.

 

                Gin dodged the attack effortlessly, and then – without giving Isshin any time to follow up on the Hakuda technique – he lashed out with Shinsou once more, carving a shallow cut into the man’s shoulder before Isshin managed to deflect the rest of the assault with his Zanpakutou.

 

                “Ya know,” Gin informed his opponent as he retracted Shinsou. “The only reason that worked on Aizen-taichou was because he let it work. I don’ really feel like crashin’ through three buildin’s though so I think I’ll give it a pass if it’s all the same ta ya.”

 

                With a short exhale through his nose, Gin put away his Zanpakutou and folded his hands into his sleeves. “Ya bore me, jus’ like your son, though at least he’s not completely predictable in a battle. Still, I don’ like fightin’ people who bore me so I’ll be goin’ now. Maybe I’ll see ya ’round. Don’ worry; I’ll give your love ta Ichigo-chan!”

 

                Gin snickered under his breath and disappeared in a flit of Shunpo just as Isshin roared in outrage and sent three consecutive Getsuga Tenshous crashing into the spot where Gin had been standing half a second ago, completely obliterating the street and everything on either side of it.

 

                Such a mess.

 

**{2}**

 

                Ichigo jerked out of the restless nap he had been taking when the sound of the cell door opening kick-started his brain. Blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes, he stiffened when he recognized Gin breezing in with two Arrancar behind him carrying their daily trays of mush.

 

                “Hiya!” Gin greeted them with a highly inappropriate amount of good cheer. “I'm overseein’ your lunch handouts taday! Aren't ya folks lucky; ya don’t have ta put up with Tousen-chan for once.”

 

                He was met with a stony silence. The man actually pouted. “Tough crowd, huh?”

 

                Ichigo snuck a glance over at Matsumoto. Ever since Gin had intervened several days ago, the Arrancar had kept their distance, only coming in to serve their meals and accompany them to the bathroom. Other than that, they stayed outside, something Ichigo was pretty glad about.

 

                Matsumoto wasn't in trouble today though so Ichigo wasn't sure why Gin had made an appearance again. The Shinigami hadn't even so much as glanced at her so far.

 

                This guy was kinda strange, in Ichigo’s opinion, and not just because of his creepy grin or that feeling you got when you were around him that made you suspect he was constantly bullshitting you no matter what he said (although – granted – even that was pretty damn disturbing in and of itself).

 

                No, it was something else entirely, something Ichigo had felt ever since he had crossed blades with Gin. None of the others had really fought the ex-captain but Ichigo had, and he simply hadn't been able to pick up any sort of animosity from the Shinigami. Even Aizen’s Zanpakutou had felt like an enemy against Zangetsu despite the fact that the crazy bastard had been way, _way_ above Ichigo in terms of strength.

 

                Gin on the other hand was just... weird. Ichigo honestly had no idea what the hell he wanted. One minute, it was all _Aizen-taichou’s gonna win; you might as well give up, you little weakling_ , and then the next it was _stay the fuck away from my not-girlfriend who’s my enemy but I'm still not gonna let you touch her_ , and then it was right back to _hi, I'm one of your resident captors, aren’t you happy to see me_.

 

                Not in so many words but that was the impression Ichigo had gotten. Talk about wild mood swings.

 

                “Eh, this looks pretty gross,” Gin was saying now, and Ichigo glanced up to find him examining one of the plates of food that one of the guards were bringing in.

 

                Ichigo retorted before he could stop himself. “Then get us better food!”

 

                He could practically hear Ishida screaming at him with his eyes to shut the hell up.

 

                Gin swung around to face him as if he’d been waiting for Ichigo’s outburst. It was then that Ichigo noticed a rip in the man’s usually immaculate clothes, and when he looked back up, Gin’s smile widened and he began approaching with deliberate steps.

 

                “Ne, guess who I met taday, Ichigo-chan!” Gin sang out in a way that made Ichigo wary. He’d seen how mercurial Gin could be, switching from playful to murderous in a heartbeat, all the while keeping up a smiling facade.

 

                And-

 

                “Who the fuck are you calling ‘Ichigo-chan’?!” Ichigo snapped, more than a little irritated. “And what the hell is with you and guessing games?”

 

                Gin sighed dramatically as he came to a stop in front of Ichigo. “You're no fun, ya know that?”

 

                Ichigo would've wrung the man’s neck out of sheer frustration if he’d been able to. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

 

                “Nope!” Gin denied happily. “Life’s nothin’ but a game, ya know. Now are ya gonna guess?”

 

                “No!” Ichigo retorted, glowering mulishly and wishing the man was close enough for him to take a swing at.

 

                “Too bad,” Gin tugged at his robe. “He was so angry, even after I told ’im he’d probably at least be able ta see his precious son one last time. Not many people get that chance in a war, ya know.”

 

                Ichigo went ramrod straight. “You saw my dad?! If you did anything to him, I’ll make you pay for it!”

 

                Gin arched an eyebrow at him. His expression reinvented sarcasm. “I’m terrified, truly.” His shuttered eyes gave the impression of giving Ichigo an exaggerated up-down examination. “Those are big words comin’ from someone takin’ an indefinite vacation in a prison cell. Lucky for ya, I only cut ’im up a bit. And maybe broke his arm. But I didn’ kill ’im! Aren’t I nice?”

 

                Ichigo grinded his teeth together but managed to swallow his anger with some difficulty. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

                “’Cause I've got nothin’ better ta do,” Gin chirped, and Ichigo would've fallen over if he’d had space. “’Sides, I promised Shiba-taichou that I’d send his love ta ya. I'm a man o’ my word, ya know? ...Well no, I'm really not. But truth from a liar is still a truth.”

 

                Ichigo had already tuned the older Shinigami out two and a half sentences ago. “...’Shiba-taichou’?”

 

                Gin rocked back on his heels, and Ichigo couldn't help noticing how half the room suddenly looked oddly shifty-eyed.

 

                “Ya don’t know,” Gin smiled mockingly at him. “Well now you’ll have plenty ta talk about ta pass the time. Aizen-taichou is too preoccupied with Karakura Town at the moment ta bother with ya.”

 

                Dazedly, Ichigo shoved aside the issue of his father for the moment and concentrated on Gin again. “Kara- Wait, what’s Aizen done to Karakura Town?”

 

                Gin hummed, sweeping a glance at the Arrancar who were almost finished distributing their lunch. “Usin’ it ta make the Ouken, o’ course. Ya should already know that.”

 

                Ichigo _did_ know that. That wasn't what he’d meant. “No, I mean what’s happened with the people inside it? Is he crazy? There are normal people – _kids_ – living there! What’s gonna happen to them?”

 

                Even just the thought of Karin and Yuzu still being in there while Aizen destroyed the town-

 

                He didn't want to think about it.

 

                Gin tilted his head, eyes opening just enough for a sliver of cerulean to show. “‘Goin’ ta happen’? You're mistaken, Ichigo-chan. It’s _already happenin’_.”

 

                His eyes closed again. The wide smile curved higher. “The bindin’ points of the fake Karakura Town were destroyed in the war so the real one switched back ta the Human World weeks ago, not that Aizen-taichou cares where it is. The bodies are pilin’ up. All those poor Humans without a clue as ta what’s goin’ on, all tryin’ ta get outta town and away from gettin’ attacked by things they can’t see. Aizen-taichou doesn't want ’em disruptin’ his work so he doesn't take too kindly ta the ones who don’t know how ta stay put in their houses and not get in the way.”

 

                Gin chuckled, and Ichigo saw red. How could he-! “You sick bastard! You think that’s _funny_?”

 

                Gin looked openly amused even as he turned to leave since the Arrancar had finished their job. “You're so uptight, Ichigo-chan. Ya should loosen up a bit, ’else you’ll end up killin’ your _self_ if all ya can see are the bad things in life and none o’ the good.”

 

                “There was _nothing_ good about anything you just said!” Ichigo shouted after the asshole as Gin waved a hand over his shoulder before exiting the cell, the other Arrancar following him out.

 

                Ichigo fumed as the door closed. “That son of a bitch! If Aizen’s laid a finger on my sisters-”

 

                “Maa, Kurosaki-san, calm down,” Urahara’s mild voice cut through the haze of panicked fury that had been clouding Ichigo’s mind. “I believe Ichimaru-san just told you they were fine.”

 

                Ichigo pulled up short. “Huh? No he didn't!”

 

                Urahara just shook his head. “He said ‘Humans without a clue as to what’s going on’, and ‘getting attacked by things they can’t see’. Both your sisters are spiritually aware, are they not? And they know, at least vaguely, what you've been up to? Your father should know as well, Ishida-san, and your slew of spiritually aware friends should at least be able to see the Hollows even if they don’t understand what is happening. In other words, he implied that your friends and family have at least all escaped Karakura Town.”

 

                Ichigo gaped for a moment. Ishida looked equally skeptical. Inoue had perked up with a desperate sort of hope in her eyes while Chad seemed torn between wanting to believe and guarding against it.

 

                “Are- Are you sure?” Ichigo pressed insistently. “How do you know that’s what he meant? Maybe you're reading too much into it. Why would he even tell me that?”

 

                “Hm, perhaps he thought none of us would see through what he said. He does seem to like his word games,” Urahara smiled reassuringly. “But I think Aizen-san himself would've dropped by if he had done anything to your family or your friends.”

 

                Ichigo latched on to that hope. He knew better than to take Geta-Boushi’s words at face value; he’d bet his Zanpakutou that Urahara knew more than he let on, or at least had his speculations on why Gin had told him at all, but the shopkeeper wouldn't have given him false hope when it came to his sisters if the man himself didn't believe it to be true.

 

                “This guy’s supposed to be our enemy, right?” Kensei spoke up for the first time in hours.

 

                “I wonder,” Urahara murmured, head ducking for a moment to hide his face as he said it before glancing up again. This time, there was a warning in his eyes, silently cautioning all of them to stop talking about it. Ichigo tensed and flicked a glance at the camera attached to the far ceiling corner.

 

                _Could_ Gin be...? But the man had done so many bad things – messing with Rukia, stabbing Byakuya, nearly killing Hiyori – and it was obvious that Aizen trusted him a lot. Gin had even said that the two of them went way back, and from what Ichigo had seen, the silver-haired Shinigami honestly did seem to be closer to Aizen than anyone else was, even Tousen.

 

                Ichigo looked around again, his gaze stopping for a moment on Kira, who was even paler than usual as he stared at Urahara like he thought that might reveal everything the shopkeeper suspected about Gin. Gin had been Kira’s captain, Ichigo recalled.

 

                And Matsumoto was fiddling with the necklace she was wearing, a pensive frown on her face as her eyes remained glued on the door. There was no telling what she was thinking.

 

                Ichigo glanced down at his own hands, fingers clenching together for a moment. He wasn't all that smart a guy but even he knew that they would need a miracle to get out of here alive. There was no way Aizen would slip up _now_ of all times and accidentally let them escape, which meant that the only way they were getting out was if a rescue came for them.

 

                Ichigo didn't particularly care where that rescue came from, so if it came in the form of a smiling fox with who-knew-what personal goals in mind, then, well, Ichigo would be willing to give the man a chance in spite of everything that had happened.

 

                For now though...

 

                “Hey,” Ichigo automatically looked at Urahara as he spoke because the shopkeeper knew a bit of everything, and really, it had been obvious that he and Goat-Face were well-acquainted.

 

He glared suspiciously at the man in question. “What did Gin mean by ‘Shiba-taichou’?”

 

                At this, both Hitsugaya and Matsumoto swiveled their heads around in tandem to stare at the shopkeeper as well.

 

Urahara blanched, just a little, and then turned to Hirako for some reason.

 

                “You explain,” The shopkeeper smiled winningly at the Visored.

 

                Hirako snorted. “Like hell I am. I have nothin’ ta do with this.”

 

                Ichigo’s left eyebrow ticked up with irritation. “ _Now._ ”

 

                Urahara sighed. “Once upon a time, a Shinigami met a Human...”

 

                One of these days, Ichigo was going to kill his old man for keeping so many things hidden from him.

 

**{2}**

 

                There, that should do. Some food for thought for to keep the Shinigami occupied, give their brains some time to wrap around the idea that Gin wasn't entirely in Aizen’s camp so that when the time came, it would be even less work to convince them to – if not trust him – than at least rely on him and his position as a spy. And he hadn't made any friendly gestures – or any gestures at all – towards Rangiku this time, or Izuru for that matter. He needed all of them to believe he was still a heartless bastard (and he really was, for the most part), just not _Aizen’s_ heartless bastard.

 

                (It also didn't hurt that Gin got to stir up trouble around other parts of Las Noches for Tousen to run around cleaning up after him so that the man wouldn't think to watch the cameras when Gin visited the cell, not that the other former captain knew it was Gin behind most of the fights cropping up recently. The blind Shinigami simply thought that the more disruptive Espada were causing their usual mayhem.)

 

                He turned down another hallway that would lead to his rooms. His steps slowed when he sensed the muted beats of two reiatsu signatures up ahead.

 

                In fact, they were stationary, directly across from his set of rooms.

 

                Gin didn't speed up but he did temporarily raise an eyebrow. How strange. Normally, when any Arrancar voluntarily wanted to talk to one of their leaders about something or other that wasn't all that important in the grand scheme of things, they’d go to Tousen first, Aizen second, and Gin a desperate last. Even Espada like Ulquiorra and Starrk preferred staying away from him.

 

                And Gin knew for a fact that at least one of the two Arrancar standing outside his door was definitely afraid of him.

 

                He turned the last corner, smile plastered generously across his face as he caught sight of the Primera duo.

 

                “What a surprise!” Gin drawled as both Starrk and Lilynette straightened upon his arrival, though the former still had a bit of a slouch to his posture. Not even Aizen’s presence could get rid of Starrk’s innate laziness. “Ta what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I'm sure Tousen-chan’s around somewhere if ya need somethin’.”

 

                Tousen was the one who usually handled the Arrancar’s day-to-day problems outside of the meetings Aizen called. While Aizen enjoyed playing mind games with his followers, unless it was something related to his plans, the man preferred not to have to deal with every minor concern that the Arrancar brought up, so that job was passed on to Tousen. Gin on the other hand was usually in charge of _Aizen’s_ day-to-day problems, something he knew rubbed Tousen the wrong way even now.

 

                “Um, Tousen-sama left for Soul Society before we could catch up to him,” Surprisingly, Lilynette was the one who spoke up first after an anxious look at her taller counterpart. “And we couldn't find anyone else who knew anything.”

 

                Gin turned his focus on her. “About?”

 

                The girl chewed on her lip before blurting out nervously, “What- What happened to Harribel?”

 

                Gin didn't let his expression shift but he did sneak an assessing glance at Starrk. The brown-haired Espada looked utterly indifferent on the surface but Gin had people-reading down to an art form, and then some.

 

                Ah, Aizen’s Primera Espada, crippled by loneliness, hoarding bonds like priceless treasure. Starrk was probably one of the few who actually cared about what happened to his fellow Espada since the only reason he had joined Aizen’s ranks was so they’d find others who could stay with them without dying. That had been how Aizen had recruited Starrk in the first place – a place for him and Lilynette to fit in, to live, and alongside others like them without fear of being left alone again.

 

                Of course, it had all been lies. When you were in the service of Aizen Sousuke, you were about as disposable as trash in the end, and their lord and master had been remiss in telling them that as soon as their use ran out, they would be tossed aside. Maybe...

 

                Maybe these blind fools were finally starting to see it.

 

                Then again, they’d be pretty stupid if they weren’t. Aizen hadn't exactly been subtle during the war. He couldn't have made it clearer that his Espada meant nothing to him when he’d stabbed Harribel for not being strong enough to fight for him.

 

                “Didn’t ya see her go down?” Gin enquired, still studying the two in front of him. “Or was Kyouraku-taichou givin’ ya too much trouble at the time?”

 

                Lilynette bristled in reflex, and Gin caught the minute twitch of Starrk’s hand as if the man wanted to press it against the jagged scar that Gin knew now spanned over the length of the Arrancar’s Hollow hole under his jacket. Wisely learning from that very nearly fatal mistake, Starrk no longer wore his coat open. The collar was still upturned but the jacket now covered everything up to the remnants of his Hollow mask. It wouldn't do a thing to stop a sword from slashing right through the fabric but at least – if the Primera ever got into another fight with the Eighth Division captain – Kyouraku wouldn't be able to use his children’s games against these two quite as easily again.

 

                “Maa, nothin’ ta be ashamed of,” Gin assured flippantly. “It was Kyouraku-taichou after all, brought up by the old man ’imself. Ya never stood a chance of beatin’ ’im.”

 

                Lilynette puffed up indignantly. “Hey! We had to fight those other two Visored guys as well!”

 

                Gin smiled rather patronizingly. “Mm, and ya did very well... right up until ya forgot ’bout Kyouraku-taichou.”

 

                “We thought we’d gotten him!” Lilynette protested. She seemed to have _forgotten_ who she was talking to right now.

 

                Gin released a sharp, cold bark of laughter that instantly seemed to remind the girl of who she was arguing with. “The Gotei 13 would be pretty pathetic if one o’ their bes’ and oldes’ captains was defeated in one move.” He paused in thought before adding sardonically, “O’ course, against Aizen-taichou, they're pretty pathetic anyway.”

 

                He cocked his head, gaze drifting from Lilynette to Starrk and then back again. “Ya really should talk ta Aizen-taichou if ya wanna know what happened ta anyone in his army. Ya think I keep tabs on ya guys or somethin’? I’ got better things ta do.”

 

                He made to move past them then, heading for the door leading into his rooms. He wanted to change his robe, and it was never a good idea to leave Nelliel alone for a long period of time. She was even more unbearable afterwards.

 

                “...But you were the one who saved us.”

 

                Gin’s hand stopped on the doorknob, stilling for a second before half-turning back, smile glued on his face. “Hardly. Szayel was the one who saved ya.”

 

                “But you brought Starrk to him from the battlefield,” Lilynette continued, her voice tiny but insistent.

 

                Gin’s smile widened, and Lilynette fidgeted under it. “I did it on a whim. Aizen-taichou didn' order me ta get rid of ’im, and I thought he’d be more useful alive than dead, so I took ’im ta Szayel ta see if anythin’ could be done. Imagine our surprise when Starrk over ’ere healed enough and ya appeared again. Szayel wanted ta experiment on the two o’ ya.”

 

                Lilynette blanched, and even Starrk frowned at the mere thought.

 

                “But you brought us in, regardless of the reason,” Starrk spoke up at last, grey eyes narrowed. “Our thanks for that, Ichimaru-sama. We’d just like to know if you did the same for Harribel.”

 

                Gin exhaled softly, turning away again as he unlocked the door. It was keyed only to his reiatsu. “Mm, I did. Her Fraccion were all killed but she was still breathin’, and Aizen-taichou didn’ care either way.”

 

                “Then- Then where is she now?” Lilynette asked, voice pitching a little higher with worry. “We already knocked on her door but nobody answered.”

 

                Gin opened the door, hiding his impatience as he peered over his shoulder at them one last time. “Ya brain-dead or somethin’? Aizen-taichou almos’ killed ’er.” He opened his eyes, piercing each Arrancar with a cool, measuring gaze. “ _Why_ would she stay?”

 

                He didn't wait for a reply as he stepped into his sitting room and closed the door behind him. A heartbeat, two, and then he allowed a cruel grin to stretch across his face.

 

                Perfect. The bait had been set.

 

                When he’d saved Starrk, it really had been on a whim. Harribel as well. His plans for them had been a distant idea at the time. After all, with Aizen fusing with the Hogyoku, there was no point in causing rifts in his army since Aizen no longer _needed_ an army, not really. It certainly lightened the man’s workload since he could send them out to take over Rukongai and fight the Shinigami for him while he was occupied with creating the Ouken, but Aizen didn't actually _need_ them. He could do everything himself, not to mention he still had Gin and Tousen.

 

                And while it was still rather unnecessary now, it definitely wouldn't hurt in the long run either. Starrk and Lilynette were clearly uneasy about sticking around, and with Harribel having already taken off, it might just be the push that the former two needed to disappear as well. Aizen would be down two of his top Espada, and if Barragan saw how two of the few fellow colleagues whom he grudgingly acknowledged had defected, he might be convinced to leave as well. Barragan had never liked Aizen. With three of Aizen’s top Espada gone, Ulquiorra would be the only one left amongst the Arrancar’s strongest fighters.

 

                There was also the advantage of Gin saving them. He was pretty sure that if it put Lilynette in harm’s way, Starrk wouldn't return the favour, debt or no debt, but Harribel possessed the sort of honour that now dictated an obligation towards Gin, even if she had left for now. And without her three Fraccion to take care of, she wouldn't have any qualms throwing herself into a dangerous battle either since she would only be risking her own life and limb. Coupled with the grief she’d be feeling over her Fraccion, as well as her rage towards Aizen since the three Arrancar who used to follow her around had died in the line of duty for the very man who had betrayed her in the end, Gin now potentially had the perfect soldier in Harribel, and he could track her down anytime. Offer her a chance for revenge and a way to clear her debt all at the same time, and he’d have her onboard within five minutes should it actually reach the point where he would want to use her assistance.

 

                And Gin hadn't lied to Starrk or Lilynette – Harribel’s Fraccion _had_ been killed. He just hadn't mentioned at whose hand.

 

                Emilou Apacchi and Cyan Sung-Sun had both been dead by the time Gin had reached them, killed in the wake of Ryuujin Jakka’s inferno, but Franceska Mila Rose had still been alive. Barely, but if Gin had rushed her to Szayel, she could have survived.

 

                Gin wasn't in the habit of rushing. He wasn't in the habit of losing a rook just because he couldn't sacrifice a pawn either.

 

                So he’d finished her off himself. It had been a mercy killing anyway; she’d been in a lot of pain, and Gin hadn't drawn it out. A slash across her throat had finished her off, and Tier Harribel had lost all needless ties, leaving Gin to swoop in and bind all her frayed ends around his own fingers if and when it became necessary. She had an analytical mind after all, and though she wasn't on par with Aizen, she was still very strong, and could fight off most Arrancar in a battle. If push came to shove, she was also level-headed and sensible enough to convince the Shinigami that it would be a good idea to work alongside her.

 

                And if Gin could also secure Starrk and Lilynette, all the better for him.

 

Two captain-class Espada under his control, three of Aizen’s former Arrancar soldiers, none of whom were likely to betray him, especially once his true colours came out. Together, they could take down Ulquiorra and even Barragan if it came to that. All others below the Cuatro Espada were irrelevant in terms of strength.

 

                Gin gambled to win, and this time was no different; he’d _already_ won this round, so all that was left now was to see how much he had managed to reap from it.

 

                And Gin hadn't even needed to expend much effort into the entire venture.

 

                Just the way he preferred it.

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said up top, I don’t know if I’ll continue this one. Maybe if enough people seem to like it.


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